Going To Hell
by OnTheWildside
Summary: A multi-shot erotica of different events mentioned in the show and a few that just tickle my fancy. [On temporary hiatus as of May 2015]
1. Redwood Original

**I'm trying something a bit different with this story. In fact, it isn't a story at all, but a collection of short stories containing Tig Trager. The bulk of it will be AU smut-shots based on the many stories mentioned in the show, a few will be originals from yours truly. **

**I've compiled a nice list after re watching the entire series, but if anything comes to mind or you have a particular Tig-fantasy, feel free to message me. I'll give credit accordingly for anything I use. **

**Warnings will be posted before each chapter because, well, it's Tig. I'll also try and give a time frame as these may come off jumbled and in no particular order. **

**As for this chapter, language and explicit smut follows. This is set just before season one starts.**

* * *

_2008_

It had been a long, rough ride. Tig was more than ready to get back to his dorm room with a cold one and sleep this one off. He and Bobby parked by the wall and stretched on woozy legs before walking to the clubhouse door.

Without looking, Tig made his way to the bar, opening the cooler to pull out two tall bottles and popped them on the opener behind the bar. He looked up to Bobby to hand him his brew, then noticed what the stout man was staring at... the two gashes on the leather couch. Half-Sack lay between them head on one of their chests as they pretended to laugh at something he said.

"New recruits?" Tig huffed.

"Naw, man. You recognize Sarah, right?" Bobby muttered before heaving himself up on the bar stool. He was talking about the brunette with the tanned skin, the one bulging out of the skin-tight leather. "She cut her hair or some shit."

"I mean Red." Tig said, leaning against the bar. One hand went to his crouch casually as the other held his beer. His clear blue eyes were on the newbie, with the fire engine red hair dusting just past her shoulders. He had set plans for the night when he entered the club house, but those suddenly became negotiable.

"That's Rob's daughter from the Devil's Tribe*." Bobby smiled, taking a long pull from the neck of his bottle, emptying it and placing it on the bar.

"Shit... She grew up."

"I suspect that happens naturally." Bobby scoffed. "I'm turning in for the night. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, brother." He laughed, dropping off the stool to walk down the hall of dorms.

Once he heard the door shut behind Bobby, Tig chugged the rest of his cold one and slammed the bottle down on the bar. "GRUNT!"

"Shit..." the young prospect shuttered, hopping up to his feet. "Yes, sir?"

"Time to turn in!" Tig yelled, standing up straighter, both hands on his belt now.

The prospect hesitated, looking back to the girls on the couch who were now silent.

"NOW!" Tig insisted. "Clear out!"

The girls got up, set to follow Sack to his room for the night.

"Not you, Red. You stay put."

She froze in place, feet still beside the couch, watching her friend follow the prospect to the hallway until she couldn't see them anymore.

"You just get to town, doll?" Tig asked, taking a few long strides closer.

"Last night." She nodded, quietly.

"You're Rob's girl?" She sighed, looking off to the side as he came closer. "I heard about what happened to your father. He was a good man." Tig was now standing in front of her, brushing a bright red curl from her eyes. They were dark green and heavily rimmed. She had a little star shaped diamond underneath her right eye. On a whim, he brushed his thumb over it gently. It was a piercing. The action caused her to flutter her lashes and look up at him. "What's your name, beautiful?"

"Vega*." She whispered.

"Vega?" He asked quietly, close to her ear.

"Like the star." She said smartly.

"Star Girl..." He muttered, kissing her jaw lightly. "Tell me, baby, you let anyone else in those tight leather pants yet?" He trailed a hand up her thigh only to let it linger over her zipper, feeling the heat radiating from her core. It wasn't that he was adverse to someone else's leftovers, he just liked picking off the fresh ones a bit better, ruining them for his brothers. Unfortunately that meant, more often then not, that the girls head for the hills after their first night in the club.

"I didn't spend the night here, if that's what you mean."

"What about tonight, then? You looking to earn yourself a bed for the night?"

"Actually," she slipped by him, walking over to the giant doors of the chapel. She stopped in front of the wall beside it, the wall of mug shots. "I'm more interested in what's in here." She pointed to the doors.

When she turned, he could see the cuts in the back of her tee shirt. They opened up revealing colorful shooting stars covering the bulk of her back. He found himself wanting to bend her over so he could kiss and bite every single one. "No, babe. No bitches at the table. You should know better. Your dad was VP, right?" He came up behind her, placing a hand on her neck, one on her lower stomach.

She nodded, answering his question silently. "What a shame. This is you?" She pointed to his mug shot near the top of the wall. It was a few years old, but it was unmistakably him.

"Guilty." He growled, grinding his tight jeans against her ass, nudging her with his hard cock through the fabric of their pants.

"Tig Trager." She breathed his name out effortlessly. "I've heard about you."

"Yeah, baby?" He smirked into her hair, urging her chin up to look at him. "Your daddy warn you about me?" She snapped away from him, out of his grasp, leaning her back against the giant wooden doors. She looked at him with sad doe eyes. "Too soon?"

"Sergeant." She said, looking at his right breast, the patch proudly sewn over his heart. She gave him a mocking 'About Face' followed by a playful salute. "The Tig I heard stories about wouldn't hesitate to unlock this door."

In one long stride, Tig boxed Vega in, pressing her into the door. One hand pressed flat against the wood, just beside her face, the other lingered on the door handle. "I hate to disappoint such a pretty face." He growled before sealing their lips together.

She melted at his touched, nearly sliding down the length of the door to puddle at his feet. The door opening caught her off guard, causing her to stagger a bit as she lost the support behind her. She steadied herself once inside the dark room and Tig closed the door behind them and leaned against the door, keeping the lights off. The two windows behind Clay's seat let enough light in for him to still see her eyes light up as she took in the room.

"You realize if we get caught in here I'll lose my kutte."

"Yeah? And I'm pretty sure I'll get kicked out." She crossed her arms over her torso and gripped the lower hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. She tossed the shirt on a nearby chair, Chibs chair, and flipped her hair. Tig noticed that the stars over her back continued on to dwindle out over her right collarbone. That wasn't all. On her right ribcage, she had a large tattoo of a black and blue Harley Davidson Knucklehead. A red ribbon weaved over the top of it. "Daddy's Little Girl" it read in black script.

"This is where you sit, right?" She motioned to the chair to the right of the gavel. She ran her hand over the back before pushing the chair out.

"Yeah, that's about right. You want me to fuck you in the chair, doll?"

"Not exactly." She smirked. She kicked off her heels and undid her tight leather leggings, pulling them down her long, lean legs. She placed both hands on the redwood, pushing herself up so her ass rested on the table above Tig's place at the table. "I wanna be able to see the reaper." She looked over to her left, trailing a black fingernail over the bloody scythe carved into the wood. She shot those gorgeous eyes at him, smirking. "And the kutte."

"That so?" He chuckled, pushing himself up, hands still clutching his belt buckle. He had to give it to her, this is probably the hottest thing her had done in months. Clay would have his leather if anyone found out, but who would tell? It was a few hours until dawn. If things went well, no one would catch them. The forbidden element was enough of a turn on to have Tig already close to the edge with out even touching this half naked creature laying herself in front of him. This night was definitely looking up.

"Are you backing out, Sarge?" She hummed the question, unclasping her bra only to lay it over the back of Chibs chair. She kept one arm over her breasts for a few seconds until Tig convinced his feet to move, pushing his chair out of the way so he could stand between her legs.

He took her hand, grazing his rough fingertips over her breast to clutch her hand, guiding it to the growing bulge aching between his legs. He noticed then that her nipples were pierced, making his mouth water. "It look like I'm backing out, baby?"

In response, she squeezed harder, causing him to groan, falling over her on the table. She moaned as her bare back hit the hard wood table. Tig's hands fell beside her head and he kissed her, bruisingly rough. Her hands rose up, tangling in his hair, one wrapped around the collar of his kutte.

He kissed a trail down her jaw, pausing to bite her pulse point. He lapped circles around the tiny stars on her clavicle before his mouth found her budding nipples. He suckled them into his mouth, tugging the studs there with his teeth before continuing down. Once he reached her turquoise colored panties with the skull and crossbones over her mound, he hooked his thumbs under the cotton and lace but she grabbed his wrists, steadying his hands. "You any good with that knife?" She asked playfully, nodding to the large bowie knife strapped to his leg.

"Let's find out." He countered, going straight for it. Once unsheathed, he took little time to slip it between her hip and her panties, cutting each side just over her hipbone. The ruined fabric fell off underneath her and was quickly forgotten. Tig stood up straight, watching her squirm below him.

His hands rested on his belt buckle before he popped the clasp and opened his jeans. He didn't bother pushing them down his hips, he just reached into his boxers to whip out his hard cock. She keened her body towards him, rolling her nipples in her fingers. She was begging for it. Tig gripped the base of his cock firmly in one hand. The other he placed on her groin to hold her down.

Eagerly, he used his thumb to nudge her folds open. He barely skimmed her clit, causing her to hum. Tig used the velvety head of his cock to skim through her slick cunt, up and down, brushing her clit on every pass as he coated himself in her sweet liquid. With no warning, he plunged into her, filling her until his balls slapped against her and she drew her legs up so her feet rested on the table.

"Fuck, Sarge." She groaned. Music to Tig's ears. He took a few moments to revel in the feel of her adjusting around her, her cunt swallowing him. He withdrew slowly, only to dive back in.

His hands closed around her folded thighs and pulled her closer to the edge of the table. Her head lolled to the side, intent on the reaper as Tig found a perfect pace between rhythmic pounding and jack hammering. "Eyes on me, babe." He instructed, gripping her chin to turn her head. His hand lingered on her neck.

His thumb nudged her clit in time with his thrusts as he sped up his thrusts. Vega wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer so her hands could clutch his kutte. Her fingers tangled in the leather and he felt the fluttering begin, her muscles contracting to strangle his cock. "That's it, baby." He growled.

"Sarge..." She purred, her head rolling back and her hips jerking upward. "This is so fucking hot. Jesus. I'm so close."

"Come on, baby. Don't hold back." He urged. "Come on my dick. Daddy's little fucking slut."

Her whole body convulsed as she came, clamping around him like a hot, wet, tight vice. He could feel every nerve ending catch fire as his balls drew up and he shot himself into her. He fell forward, catching his body on his arms beside her shoulders as they both came down from their high. Her thumbs lovingly stroked the soft, buttery leather as she caught her breath.

"Fuck, I think I love you." He chuckled as he withdrew his softening member from her. He tucked himself back into his jeans, not bothering to redo them. "You definitely earned that bed tonight, doll."

* * *

Chapel filled up quickly after Clay made the announcement. Tig took his usual seat, scanning over the room to make sure it was perfect like he had left it the night before. He made sure to fix the chairs and move the gavel just so.

Star Girl left early that morning once Clay pounded on the door of Tig's dorm. She didn't protest, just got up, pulled on her jeans, and left.

Clay pounded the gavel and Tig kind of blacked out. All he could think about was how Vega's ass sat where he rested his hands, how her body contorted as he fucked her over Clay's position at the redwood, one of the most sacred symbols of the club. Tig had managed to defile that too.

"Final order of business." Clay said, staring at Tig. "I found these on my seat this morning." He held up a pair of turquoise and black panties, ruined by a knife. Tig struggled to control his thoughts. Simply breathing wrong could give him away. "Now, I don't have to tell you morons that there are no bitches in chapel. I don't know whose these are, but if I find out..." He looked pointedly between Tig and Happy. "I'll have your fucking leather. Church dismissed."

* * *

*SOA's Indian Hills, Nevada charter that gets patched over in season one, episode four

*Vega is the brightest star in the constellation Lyra, the fifth brightest star in the night sky


	2. Crossing the Border

**Hello, lovely ladies! I know, I know. There are no excuses for being MIA for so long. (Two months, but whose counting?) Let's just say that I have been on a much needed vacation. My hope is to update more frequently, provided the muse plays nicely.**

**This chapter is set just before season one begins, right after the last chapter. In the show's pilot, the Mayans burn down SAMCRO's gun warehouse, killing two female illegal immigrants that were hiding underneath the building. Later, Tig reveals to Clay that he had snuck them into the house and that he had been *ahem* _intimate_ with the pair of them. I wanted to expand on this idea. It took far too long to make this concept seem plausible for me, trying to balance between nurturing Tig and down and dirty Tig. **

**At the risk of sounding all preachy, I would like to clear a few things up that perhaps were not clear in the first chapter. This is a **_**Tig**_** story. It is rated M for a reason. I do not force my own personal kinks or desires on anyone else. By all means, if you are uncomfortable with what I write, click the tiny 'X' in the top right hand corner. I _will_ try to be more explicit in my warnings before each chapter to prevent any further confusion. **

**That all being said, this story contains language, sexual content, and a few offensive racial slurs. Nothing in this is my own belief. If you are easily offended by any of these things, I suggest you turn away now.**

**I fear I may be a tad bit rusty, but I hope you all get some enjoyment out of this. I've missed you all so!**

* * *

"Fucking grunt work." Tig snickered, flicking the fading butt of his cigarette out the open window of the matte black van as he pulled up to the warehouse in the hills. He made a mental note not to piss Clay off anymore.

Fucking that broad in Chapel was one of his worst ideas. It also happened to be one of the hottest experiences of his life. Though it couldn't be proved exactly who had disgraced the reaper, Clay took it upon himself to punish the Sergeant at Arms by giving him "light duty". That translated into temporarily losing his kutte and having to transport illegal arms over state lines by himself.

He slammed the door when he jumped from the cabin of the van, relishing the feel of his aching joints stretching and popping. It wasn't exactly as gratifying as clambering off his Dyna after a long days ride, but the feeling was similar enough to make him feel nostalgia.

He walked around the van slowly, wrapping his gloved palm around the handle of the back door and turning it slowly.

Crates. Stacks and stacks of wooden crates, neatly organized in the back of the vehicle. "How the fuck..." He muttered, running his leather coated hand over his weathered face.

He contemplated calling Juice, maybe Jax. There was no way he was going to make clean work of unpacking this load before daylight.

He pulled his prepaid from his back pocket, flipping it open with his thumb. The screen illuminated the lines in his face, causing him to squint in order to focus on the tiny font of the home screen. "No fucking service…" He grumbled. "That's just fucking great…"

He contemplated taking the van back to Charming, if only to drop by the club house and get some help when his ears perked up at an enticing noise. It was faint, barely a whimper. And it was distinctly feminine. He realized, almost immediately, that the noise was echoing off the walls of the back of this van.

Tig wouldn't admit it, not in front of Clay, but instead of watching the Irishmen pack the truck with firearms, he had chosen to frequent the pub across the street where he indulged himself in a pint and struck out twice with the waitresses.

Wasting little time, Tig propped a leg up on the tail end of the van and used it as leverage to heave the rest of his body into the vehicle. His back hunched to conserve his height. He maneuvered through the huge wooden crates until he could see the far corners of the van. Crouched in the back corner , wedged between boxes and crates, was not only one woman, but two, cowering and clutching each other nervously. Upon seeing him, the women started crying uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey, hey..." Tig said, his voice calm and soothing, "I'm not gonna hurt you." Shit. He hated to see a woman cry, even if he couldn't clearly make out their faces in the shrouding darkness. "Why don't you ladies come on out?"

"Por favor, señor, no haga que nos duele! Nos obligaron. Por favor, que nos iban a matar!" One of the women spoke out. "Por favor, señor. Por favor!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." He immediately regretted not learning Spanish. He wished he had brought Juicey along. "Come on, sweethearts. I'm not gonna hurt you." He saw the terror on their faces as they spotted the knife strapped to his jeans. "Fuck..." He muttered, unclipping the straps, he removed the knife from his thigh before eliciting a scream from the women. "No, no, no. Look, I'm putting it down." He held the knife gingerly between two fingers and placed it on top of the nearest crate. "See? Its gone."

Next, he reached behind him. Under his hoodie, beneath the waist band of his jeans, he removed his Glock gently. His action was followed by another scream and streams of loud, ugly tears. "All gone." He promised, patting his palms over the expanse of his body. "See? All clear." Slowly, he took a few steps backwards. "Now, come on out." He cooed, making a come hither motion with his fingers to put meaning behind his foreign tongue. "Its safe. I promise. I wouldn't hurt a fly."

He waited in silence for a few minutes. Patience was never his strong point. He felt his fingers itch, wishing he had a cigarette perched between them to calm his nerves. He was tense. This whole situation wasn't exactly improving on his night.

He wondered exactly what the women were doing in the van. He figured they probably weren't supposed to be there. They most likely ran from whatever hell they came from, unknowingly opening themselves up to a whole other world of torment.

A twinge of guilt shook his conscience when he thought about exactly what they might be willing to do in exchange for a place to stay. He figured he could hide them here for a few days, at least. No one ever came here, save for himself and Jax. Clay could never be bothered to make the trip out here.

He could have these girls all to himself. Able bodies that he could probably persuade into bending to his will if he could get past this whole language barrier. He would get a few good days out of this deal if he played his cards right. If the girls got caught here, that very language barrier would be his alibi. He could get off by saying they were squatters and that would be it. He would be completely off the hook.

He was stirred from his thoughts by the rustling and soft padding of legs and feet. Slowly, the women exited the van, jumping onto the ground in front of Tig's feet. "Hola." He laughed at his own remedial Spanish.

They stood like statues in stone silence for what seemed like ages. Tig took took this time to study the women. Both were obviously Mexican; tan skin, dark hair, dark, almond shaped eyes. They were average height and build, but one was obviously taller then the other. They appeared to be in their late twenties. They looked similar, possibly sisters, but, then again, all beaners look alike. They weren't classically pretty, but Tig wasn't terribly picky.

He considered their situation for a moment, how terrifying it must be for them. They didn't seem to understand much English, probably had no idea where they were, and were stuck with him. Tig: Sergeant at Arms of the Sons of Anarchy, Redwood Original. There was a good reason he had become Sergeant. Actually, a few good reasons. The main one being that he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, no matter what the situation.

All things considered, he imagined what would result of him helping these girls. There would be no connection between him and them if they were caught. He imagined how grateful would they be if he helped them, what they would be willing to do to show their gratitude.

His cock stirred, straining against his zipper as he thought about how long it had been since he'd had a woman. In retrospect, it had been just over a week since his romp with Red. He'd struck out twice tonight. He needed it. Yes, these girls would definitely do.

"You girls wanna come inside?" He asked, instantly feeling like an idiot. They would never understand him. He looked around, trying to find a way to convey his intentions without words.

_Food_, he thought. Everyone understands food. He remembered Bobby usually kept a stash in the glove compartment of the van for "safe keeping." For once being a fat fuck may actually pay off.

He held up a finger, motioning to the front of the van. Slowly, strategically, he walked around the front of the van and opened the passenger door. He popped the compartment under the dash and, low and behold, he found Twinkies. Four of them. _Perfect._. He snatched up the yellow sponge cakes and quickly made his way back to the quivering girls. Now they were holding hands, looking down at their feet. Maybe they were thinking about running. At this point, that may be their safer option.

"Here." Tig offered, holding out his hands. Their eyes lit up at the prospect of food. Tig smirked. His plan was working. "Come on inside." He started walking towards the front door, dangling the plastic packaging out in front of the women as he went.

They shared a sideways glance, a quick moment of indecision before following, slow and skittish, towards the door behind the aging motorcycle enthusiast and the promise of nourishment and shelter.

Triumphant, Tig twisted the doorknob and walked into the old house. It was dark and smelled slightly moldy, like old houses left long uninhabited often did. The floor was littered with stray pieces of straw and there were a few empty oil drums and wooden crates serving as furnishings.

He led the girls into the room, stopping short in front of one of the crates and sank down, using it as a makeshift chair. He placed the Twinkies in his lap and motioned for the Latinas to have a seat beside him.

They exchanged glances, wondering what it is they were to do. Then, finally, they sunk down, deciding to sit on the floor, graciously at Tig's feet.

He chuckled quietly to himself at the unintended meaning to the gesture. He watched as the women looked down at their knees, placing their hands palm down on their thighs.

"Hungry?" Tig's deep voice bellowed in the empty room. He picked up the plastic wrapped cake. The noise of crinkling plastic was amplified in the silence. The wrapping ripped easily and instantly the sugary scent of pastry and cream met Tig's nostrils. The girl's eyes shot upward, visibly salivating and the temptation.

Tig took the Twinkie in his hand, offering the cake over to the taller woman. Without hesitation she wrapped her lush, pink lips around the girth of the cake, engulfing it up until her lips brushed Tig's fingertips. She froze, clamping her jaw and breaking the spongey yellow morsel, withdrawing on herself, embarrassed.

"Good, huh?" Tig smirked, taking what was left of the cake for himself, cleaning the cream off his thumb. He wanted so badly to brush the corner of her mouth where she left a bit of white lingering. He felt as though such an intimate gesture would scare the girl, and so he refrained from his first instinct.

The shorter girl with the doe eyes made a soft whimpering noise, licking her lips longingly. Tig shook himself from his fantasies to open a second Twinkie, this time a bit faster, and offered it to the other girl. Without blinking, her mouth engulfed the entire snack and she ended up nipping the pads of his calloused fingers with her teeth.

"Hungry, are we?" He scoffed, remembering they still had no clue what he was talking about. He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and set forth to open the third package. Instead, he decided to hand it over to the first girl, the tall one. She opened it eagerly, overzealously stuffing the cake in her mouth whole.

Tig took the last package and handed it over to the other girl and she did the same, tentatively licking each finger off when she was done. Tig then wiped his hands off on his dark jeans. His bright eyes flit between the two of them, watching them carefully for physical cues. He was hoping the language barrier wasn't going to hinder the rest of his night.

He regarded them in their quiet beauty. Things were much simpler this way, no words to complicate matters. They could rely on their primal instincts and skip all of the formal niceties of societal pressure, not that Tig ever really conformed in that respect. Sometimes it was nice to lose control.

The shorter one with the soft black curls licked her lips clean. Tig saw this as an act that was slightly more sensual than it probably should have been. He noticed her eyelashes bat and her teeth sink into the pink flesh of her lower lip. He was probably imagining it in his buzzed state, he reasoned.

He began weighing his options. He wasn't sure whipping his dick out in front of these foreigners was the best idea. In fact, that may end very badly and painfully on his part.

Frustrated, his head lulled back and he clamped his eyes shut. He had a few precious hours until sunrise and he needed to unpack that fucking truck or he may never get his kutte back. Today had just been a shit storm of bad luck.

His eyes shot open when he felt hands, soft, dainty hands on his thighs, reaching for his fly. He looked down between his legs. The smaller of the two women was undoing his jeans. When his fly was undone, her nails scraped his stomach and trailed through his chest hair underneath his hoodie.

She watched him carefully, eyes never leaving his as her hands trailed back down his chest, dipping into his boxers to wrap around the base of his rigid cock. He hissed through his teeth at the contact and thrust his hips, pushing himself into her hand.

He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of moist heat on his cock as her warm tongue began licking up and down both sides of his fully erect dick, making him want to spew his load right then. He leaned up, his eyes locking with the shy girl's as her friend's lips wrapped around him. He nodded, calling her over. She seemed to be intent with voyeur for the night, but Tig would much rather have her join in the fun.

Begrudgingly, she leaned forward on her knees, placing a hand on Tig's knee. Her friend shifted her weight, allowing them both room to settle at the man's feet. Without losing contact, the exhibitionist of the two gave the other girl a look, almost pleading her to join. Tig watched her resolve melt before her lips parted and she gave in.

"That's it, sweet heart." He groaned as now two tongues encircled the spongey, rigged flesh of his member.

He lost himself, the feeling of their mouths on him, the saliva leaving trails along the length of his solid cock. They looked up at him through long lashes, eager to fulfill his every fantasy.

"Fuck. Muy bueno." He thrust against them and they responded by licking him faster and harder, sucking hard on his head as their bottom teeth scraped the underside of his dick.

Suddenly, tall one took all of him into her mouth, relaxing her throat until his tip tickled the back of it while the other chola tongued his balls, suckling the velvety skin until she had first one of his balls in her cheeks, then alternated between the two until his knees were shaking and he was grateful for the wooden shipping crate that he was plopped down on.

His hands found dark curls, gripping either side of one of the girl's face, forcing himself down her throat as he lost control and came in hot spurts. She managed to swallow most of his spunk before she sat back on her heels. He watched some of his come run down the sides of her chin. She shorter of the two, the one with the soft curls, jealously licked her friend's chin clean before they sat back on their hands and regarded Tig as he came down from his high.

"Fuck. Good job, senoritas." Tig huffed in finality. He took a moment to collect himself before he was on his feet, tucking himself back into his tight jeans and running a hand through his tangled curls. It suddenly dawned on him that he would have a lot of work to do tonight, unpacking the truck, and he hadn't even started yet.

"Yeah, yeah. Mi casa es su casa." He laughed off what little Spanish he did know before walking off toward the front door.

* * *

**Translations: **

_Por favor, señor, no haga que nos duele! Nos obligaron. por favor, que nos iban a matar!_ – Please sir, dont hurt us! They forced us. Please, they were going to kill us!


	3. Taste of Charming

**This chapter occurs during season one, I believe its episode five, when Gemma holds the Taste of Charming fundraiser for the school district. **

**Explicit smut follows, the fun kind, with just a dash of food fetish magic thrown in. Usual language and content warnings associated with Tig apply.**

**Thank you guys so much for the continual love and support! I hope you all like this one! ;)**

* * *

Tig was covered up to his elbows in grimy motor oil when he left the garage for the day. He may be a shit mechanic to cover the clubs ass with a legitimate business, but he wasn't a stranger to changing oil. Instead of stopping by the bar first thing, he walked straight to his dorm room to change out of his coveralls and get into the shower.

The warm water was comforting, soothing all the aches from his tired, aging body. He clutched the soap in one hand, using it to lather and suds up his hairy, taut chest. He worked the bubbles down his arms, then went to work on his thighs. It was on his way back to soaping up his stomach that he felt his cock stir.

Tig smiled to himself, finishing up with the soap. He rinsed, turning his back to the open stream. He braced one arm on the cool, white tile and leaned his head against it. His free arm hung by his side as he thought about warm, wet lips wrapping around his cock.

"Mother fucker..." He hissed, gritting his teeth as he gripped the base of his turgid length, brushing his fingers past his sack, and tugged on his hardening dick. Though pleasant, this was nothing like the real thing. He groaned in frustration, pounding his fist on the wall and shutting off the water. There had to be some broad outside to offer him some assistance.

Tig dried and dressed quickly, pulling on a plain white shirt and tucked his hard length awkwardly into some ripped old jeans. He didn't feel like himself without his rings or leather wrist cuffs, so those went on next. He left his room with damp ringlets of hair clinging to his forehead, heading down the hall of rooms to the open bar. He helped himself to a shot of bourbon and then opened the cooler to pull out a beer and popped it open, taking a long pull before he took a good look around the room.

Bobby and Hap had a few crow eaters on their laps on the black leather couch. Everyone seemed occupied. It took a few awkward minutes of voyeurism before Tig noticed the sweet smell of chocolate and sugar. He followed his nose, beer in hand, towards the kitchen.

Bent in half, leaning in the refrigerator, Tig spotted a pair of long lean legs attached to a ripe, round ass in a pair of turquoise shorts so tight he could make out the shape of her cunt through the crotch. Tig welcomed the view, leaning against the door way on his shoulder. One hand tucked into a belt loop, the other held the glass neck up to his lips so he could drain his beer. Once done, Tig slammed the bottle down on the nearby counter. The young girl jumped, nearly dropping the carton of eggs in her hands before standing upright. The neon red hair gave her away. "Jesus, Sarge. You don't sneak up on people like that!"

"Sorry, Red." He smirked. "Baking something sweet for me?" He asked, noting the dirty dishes and baking supplies on the table.

"Actually, it's for the fundraiser tomorrow."

"Gemma got you playing house tonight?"

"She wants a table full of sweets for the Taste of Charming, something for all the diabetic geriatric's to go into a coma over. It seems like I'm the only one around who isn't too drunk or high to bother to listen to the timer on the oven." She said, cracking an egg into a large bowl full of sugar and butter.

"She's just got you wrapped around her little finger then, huh?" He scoffed.

"You've met Gemma. I'd hate to be on her bad side." Vega replied.

Tig nodded, knowing all too well the wrath of Gemma Teller-Morrow. He watched as she used the hand mixer to blend the eggs with the other liquids, then grabbed another bowl full of brown, sifted powder and dumped it slowly into the liquid as she mixed. Soon it became a dark, glossy mixture that was thick enough to slow the spin of the mixture. Tig came up behind the red head, placing both hands on her hips, pulling her body into a swaying motion in time with his own. "What are you making, baby?"

"Brownies." She hummed, pressing herself against him. "And if you distract me and I burn this batch, Gemma will have my fucking ass."

"Can I have a crack at it first?" He growled in her ear, holding his hand over her zipper.

Vega ran her finger through the thick batter, spinning in Tig's hands to smear the viscous liquid over his upper lip. "How's that taste?" She purred.

He ran his tongue over the batter, glaring at her the entire time. "Fucking delicious."

"Good!" She exclaimed, squirming out of his grasp. She grabbed a large, greased pan from the table and began spooning the batter into it with a rubber spatula. He watched as she cleaned the sides of the bowl and smoothed the chocolate concoction in the rectangular pan. She slid the pan into the awaiting oven and then grabbed the timer off the stove and set it, sitting it back down. "There. You've got twenty minutes."

"I like a challenge." Tig chuckled. "Come on, doll. In my room. Take that with you." He nodded to the spatula.

She gave him a concerned look but didn't question it, carrying the spatula with her as she trotted down the hall to his room, Tig followed close behind. She let herself in, already familiar with the layout of the room. Tig closed the door behind them, taking a moment to turn the lock.

"Strip." He instructed, leaning back against the door.

"And this?" She asked, holding up the spatula.

"I'll take that, sweetheart."

She handed him the spatula, looking at him pointedly, before she backed up. Her hands went straight for her tank top, tossing the skimpy material over her head. She made a little show of stripping off the skin tight shorts, wiggling to get them over her round hips. Once they made it to her knees, they fell the rest of the way to the floor and she kicked them off. She stood there, in her matching red lace bra and panties, staring at him for instruction.

"All of it, doll."

"That an order, Sarge?"

"Don't make me tell you again." He growled, smacking the handle of the spatula into his other hand.

"Yes, Sir." She saluted, then turned around towards Tig's bed. Her hands went to the clasp of her bra, snapping it before letting it fall down her arms to the floor. Instead of going for her panties next, she placed her knees on the edge of the bed, allowing herself to fall down on all fours, aiming her ass at Tig, wiggling it playfully in front of him.

Tig could no longer control himself. He slunk forward, crossing the floor in two long strides. Without hesitation, he used the batter covered spatula to slap the roundest part of the red head's ass, splattering chocolate across the pale white peak. A few stray droplets landed on the blue comforter and the carpeted floor. Vega fell forward on her arms, moaning deeply as Tig followed suit on the other cheek. "You're making a fucking mess." She muttered.

"Don't worry, doll. I'll clean it up." He chuckled. He paused to clean off one side of the spatula with his tongue. When he was satisfied with the results, he offered the other side to Vega. She rocked back on her heels, careful not to smear the smattering of chocolate flavored paint covering her ass. Her bright eyes locked on his as she tongued the spatula playfully, teasing him with her talented tongue. Once the utensil was clean enough, Tig tossed it aside. "You're wasting precious time, Sarge." Star Girl teased.

In response, Tig pushed her head back down into the mattress so her ass rose up in the air. He fell behind her on his knees, overzealously licking the batter from her flesh. He let his tongue wander, tracing the crotch of her damp panties before he worked on the other side. He lapped at her alabaster skin until it was clean. Before he was done, he bit down on the fleshiest part causing the delicious morsel to moan and arch her back towards his mouth. The flat palm of his hand contacted the side of her hip harshly and he pulled her panties down to her knees, burying his face between her thighs. Ever the accommodating one, Vega spread her legs as far as the lace wrapped around her thighs would allow.

For Tig, this was the most spectacular thing. Her own sweet flavor melded with the chocolate over his tongue. He was engrossed in her cunt, lapping at her folds with his thick tongue, his large nose nudged against her slick channel. It may not be attractive, but it was good for at least one thing. Her smell enveloped him, her flavor intoxicated him.

"God, you're so fucking good at that." She sighed, pushing herself back onto his mouth.

Tig chuckled, centering the vibrations on her swollen clit. He worshipped pussy. Of course he was good at eating it.

"Mmm... fuck." She muttered, biting her lip and looking around shoulder to try and watch him work her over. "That's it. Right there."

The egg timer went off.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Vega gasped, popping up off the bed. Tig gripped her thighs, holding her still. "Seriously, Tig. I have to go get them out of the oven!" She argued, pulling out of his grasp to roll over onto the bed. She pulled her panties up and grabbed her tank top off the floor only to pull it over her head. "Thirty seconds. I'll be right back. Be ready to finish what you started." She smirked, unlocking the door and rushing down the hall.

Tig wasted no time ripping off his clothes and turning down the soiled comforter. He climbed into his bed, completely naked, laying on his folded arms to wait for his Star Girl to return.

The door knob turned and his fiery red head entered the room again. "All set." She announced, locking the door again before she turned around. Her eyes grew wide when she spotted his prominent erection, licking her lips as she crossed the floor. She shimmied her panties down her legs, hiking one leg up so she could swing herself over his lap. "Now, where were we?"

"Right about here." He used his pointer finger to slide through her slick cunt, swirling it around her engorged clit. One hand wrapped around his aching cock, he guided her down onto his length. She gasped as he filled her, inch by inch. She braced both hands on his chest, strumming her fingers through his chest hair as she adjusted to his size stretching her wide open. Vega pulled her shirt over her head.

Tig ran his thumbs over hip bones before trailing his hands over her tattooed ribs to support her full breasts. He tried to ignore the words there, to not think about how he had know her father. His rough thumbs grazed over her hard nipples, nudging the bars pierced through them before pinching them roughly.

The girl keened toward his touch, rolling her hips along his turgid length. She wasn't shy, leaning over his chest, hands on either side of his face to kiss him. He was beginning to grow out his mustache again. The girl seemed to really like it as she moaned into his mouth, grinding herself along his cock.

Tig found her pace frustrating. His lack of control was even more so. He growled, nipping her lower lip and pushed himself up, sitting the girl up on his lap so he could control her, pushing himself into her as he grabbed her hips, pulling her down. Vega squealed, meeting him thrust for thrust. She watched his face, grabbing one of his hands from her ribcage. He took his pointer finger into her mouth, folding the rest of his fingers down. She sucked him into her mouth, one knuckle at a time, until his thick gold ring collided with her teeth. He felt her teeth against he flesh of his digit. Once satisfied, she released his finger, sopping wet, and brought it down to the apex of her thighs, encouraging him to use the moist appendage on her clit. Not one to disappoint, Tig obliged her, using his wet finger along with his thumb to tug and twist her most sensitive nub. "How's that, baby?"

"God, so fucking good, Tig." She moaned.

"Yeah? You close, doll?"

"So fucking close." She grabbed onto his shoulders, lifting herself up only to drop herself back down onto his hard dick. "Call me names. Make me come." She muttered into his ears.

Tig's free hand went for her hair, catching the neon red strands in his grip and pulling her backwards. He leaned forward, his lips close to her ear as his fingers sped up on her swollen nub. "You're such a filthy little fucking gash." He grunted. "I wanna feel you come on my cock, baby. Fucking come for your Sergeant. That's an order."

Vega's whole body seized up as she came undone around him. Her orgasm took over, clenching Tig's cock tight inside of her until he couldn't hold back. He collapsed on the bed as he spewed the white hot contents of his balls deep inside of her. Vega stayed on his lap, watching him come until she had caught her breath. She began giggling just before she fell over, collapsing beside him.

"That was great, but I have to go finish baking, Sarge." She sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. That's good, babe." He muttered, reaching over for his smokes. "You need a bed tonight?"

"You looking for round two, Tigger?"

He smirked. "Wouldn't rule it out."

"I'd hate to upset the club's Sergeant." She smiled, gathering her clothes off the floor. "Let me get all this baking done. Should I wake you?" She took her clothing pile to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"You know how to wake me up." He chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Like last time?" She yelled through the door with a laugh. She opened the door again, exiting fully dressed. "Would you like me to wash the brownie batter out of your sheets before I go?"

"Leave it. It's seen worse."

"Alright, Sarge. Have it your way. I'm not explaining to the rest of the girls how it got there, either."


	4. Fireball

**This is set at the very beginning of "Old Bones", episode number seven of season one. That's the one where the Sons find out Half-Sack is a good boxer and decide to use him to make some extra cash for the club. I took a few liberties with it because, to me, it begged to have Vega present. I've never liked Cherry, and this transpired from that.**

**Lots of hot and heavy smut follows. No major warnings, just lots of Tig. Hope you girls enjoy! ;)**

* * *

Tig watched from the picnic table as Lowell and Half-Sack went at each other full force. The prospect might only have one nut left, but he was one hell of a boxer.

He took another long pull from the brew in his hand when he noticed the cherry red Mustang pull up in the lot. The punk star emblem on the hood told him everything he needed to know about the driver of the car. It had been a few nights since she'd made an appearance at the club, but he hadn't exactly forgotten about her yet. The bruises left on his chest were just a small reminder that she had been there.

"Looks like ye've got a special delivery, aye Tigger?" Chibs laughed, punching his brother jokingly on the arm.

"May have to clear my fucking schedule, huh?" Tig laughed back as he watched the long, lean, bare legs step out of the car. She wore the hell out of those spiked heels, those tiny little leather shorts she was wearing. They were red, her signature color.

Instead of watching Tig as he expected, she seemed to be preoccupied, staring right at the ring underneath the canopy. Sack had the mechanic on his back despite the advantage of the plastic helmet Lowell was wearing. Tig felt a tinge of jealousy.

The car door slammed shut and those luscious legs led Vega straight over to the boxers. Only, she wasn't watching them. She pushed her dark shades up the bridge of her nose, shifting them to rest on her head, brushing those vibrant red locks out of her face. She was fuming mad. "Hey, Cherry Tart." She said in a mocking tone. "The fuck you think you're doing here?"

The brunette turned, looking a bit ashamed, nervous even. She feigned innocence, putting both hands up defensively. "Vega, shit. I didn't know you were here in Charming."

The red head smirked, placing both hands on her hips, cocking one out to the side. "Nice nose. Looks like you pissed someone off already, huh? Doesn't matter where you take that rancid pussy of yours, you bring trouble everywhere you go."

At this point, all the men's eyes were off the fight and on the two broads where it seemed a cat fight was brewing.

"Vega, look… about your folks… I'm awful sorry about what happened. I didn't mean –"

"Save it." Vega snapped. "You shouldn't fucking be here. Bad things happen to nasty street trash. Gapping gash like you, should have learned your lesson by now."

"Look, V… I'm not here for that anymore." Cherry looked up to Half-Sack, love in her blackened eyes. "It's all about him."

"Until the next one comes along." Vega mocked with a smug look on her face.

"V, please." Cherry reached out to touch the red head's arm. "I thought we put this behind us in Indian Hills?"

That's when Vega snapped. Reflexively, her hand flew across Cherry's face with such force that she knocked back into the springy bars of the ring. She bounced off the boxing ring and flew onto the concrete floor of the porch outside Teller-Morrow.

"I beat your fucking ass before, I can do it again! This time Jury wont be here to save your ass!" The redhead taunted. She raised a leg, poise on stomping her spike heels on the brunette's chest when Chibs stepped in.

"Aye, but I am!" Chibs bellowed. "Tha's enough o' tha' now. Settle down." He warned, holding back the red head as Sack jumped down from the ring to pick up what was left of Cherry.

"I'm fucking fine!" The fiery girl exclaimed, shaking the Scot off and running for the entrance of the clubhouse.

"You never break up a fuckin' chick fight, man!" Tig complained, finally getting up from his position on the bench to join his brothers herding around the girls.

"Say what you want, but we can't have the cops out here again, man." Bobby chuckled.

"Ah, ah, ah." Tig grabbed the prospects wrist, pulling Cherry from his grasp and shoving her into Bobby's full girth. "Bobby'll take good care of her."

"What's he mean?" Cherry asked, looking stunned.

"Come on, doll. You'll like my place. It's real nice. " Bobby piped in.

"Keep your eyes on the prize, grunt. Wait til Clay gets back." Tig mentioned as he downed the rest of his beer. "We're gonna need you at your best for what we have in mind." He told the prospect. "Now, if you'll excuse me… I don't have a fight to win." The older Son smirked, heading after his sweetbutt into the club.

Vega was behind the bar, bottle of Fireball in her hand, a blood red shot glass in the other. He watched her down another shot before she slammed the glass down on the oak counter and looked up at him from underneath dark, thick lashes.

"What was that out there, Red?" Tig asked, hooking his thumbs in his jeans and crossing his fingertips over his belt buckle.

"Cherry and I have some unfinished business. That's it."

"Yeah, we gathered when she got her ass handed to her on the pavement. What's all that about?"

"It's personal." She muttered.

"Fine." He shrugged it off. "I get it. If it helps, I don't think she's around for the long haul."

"Yeah, she was never one to make a commitment. Not to anything but the lifestyle..."

"Sound familiar." Tig smirked, stepping closer to the bar. He placed both hands on the smooth oak counter and loomed closer to the girls blushing lips.

"It seems to me like I spend an awful lot of time in some Sergeant's bed. Doesn't seem all that similar."

"Yeah, yeah." Tig laughed. "VP's daughter and all, it would look bad on your transcript as a club pass around."

Almost instantly, Tig regretted saying it. The girls eyes welled with tears and her face grew as red as her hair, as those tiny leather shorts that Tig had just lost his chance on wiggling her out of.

"I don't have to take this." She hissed, her voice breaking before she had a chance to gain composure. She dropped the bottle of whiskey on the bar, spilling the bulk of it as she stumbled around the oak precipice and ran for the front door.

"Oh, come on, Red! I was only fucking kidding! Cant you take a joke?" He grabbed her tiny wrist, pulling her back.

"You crossed a line, Tig! I don't have to be here. I choose to be! I get my dad's cut from every deal Indian Hills does, I'm not a charity case! I stay because I want to!" She was screaming, tugging hard at her arm to free herself from the man's grip.

"Calm down!" Tig retorted, pulling her closer.

The girl fell into his chest. For a moment, Tig thought he had won. She had wrapped her arms around his hips and was breathing deeply from his neck. That was up until he felt her firmly grope his right ass cheek. The one with the deep Doberman pincher teeth marks.

"Ahhhhh!" Tig screamed, pushing the girl back into the bar.

Vega rebounded quickly, holding herself up against the bar as Tig screamed, rubbing the painful dog bite.

"Guess it still fucking hurts, old man?" She smirked.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" the Sergeant at Arms screamed. "Oh, shit! God fucking damn it!"

Vega couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

Tig looked up at her, glaring. "You think this is fucking funny, little girl?"

"A little bit, yeah." She replied, half out of breath.

Tig growled, falling onto her and bracing his hands on either side of her tight little body, cornering her, causing her to gasp. "Don't hear you laughing now."

The girl blushed, looking away as the Sergeant kissed the soft flesh that she left available to him. "You know I haven't been passed around, right?" She finally said, her voice breathy with lust.

"What's that?" He muttered between nips at her throat.

"It's just you." She whispered. "Only you."

Tig stopped abruptly, pulling away to look his girl in the eye, his crystal blue ones, rimmed with wrinkles and bags glaring into her bright green doe eyes, red from tears. They streamed from the corners of her eyes, slowing drying trails of black mascara around that star shaped stud on her cheek, staining her flushed cheeks.

For once in his miserable life, Tig was stunned into silence. He was no stranger to girls throwing themselves at his feet. When he was younger, still a marine, he even had a few dumb broads that were madly in love with him, different girls at every port. Tig had a hard time returning the sentiment on account of the fact that Tig had only really, truly loved himself.

In that moment, Tig decided to do what only came natural. He let his actions do the talking. His lips brushed hers, softly at first, then more passionately, intent on her parting those lips for his tongue so he could taste her, the cinnamon whiskey and the sweetness that he'd come to love.

The young girl laughed, pulling back a second. "This tickles." She smirked, bracing her hand on his cheek and running her thumb over Tig's newly growing mustache. "I like it."

"Yeah, darlin'?" Tig smirked. "You think it makes me look distinguished?"

"More so like a dirty old man." She retorted with a coy smile.

"That so?" Tig laughed.

"I like it."

"Dirty slut." Tig laughed. "Up on the bar, girl." He challenged. "That's an order."

"Sarge." She teased, backing up to brace her hands on the bar. Tig placed his broad hands on the dip in her waist, helping to hoist her up on the smooth wooden surface. Before she was settled, his fingers were fighting to wiggle their way under the tight leather of her shorts, tugging and pulling as she lifted her ass for him, struggling to work the clasp and zipper as Tig strained the material.

Finally freed, Tig pulled those red hot pants down her pale, long legs and over those tall, spiked heels. Without her shorts in the way, Tig grasped the girl's ankles and threw them over his shoulders, kissing his way back up her legs until his face was planted between her thighs, his nose pressed against neon pink lace. He could smell her arousal, practically feel her juices dancing on her tongue. The sweetness was mixing with the spicy, sour, heady mixture of the spilt whiskey her ass was soaking in.

"Public place, Sarge. You gonna make a move, or keep me waiting?" She purred, her voice was graveling and breathy with lust.

She was nervous, Tig could tell. It was cute. Despite her reservations about the timing and location, the rhythmic thumping of her cunt against her panties was telling Tig everything her needed to know: she was ready for him.

Tig hooked his nose under the delicate lace, using his beak to push her panties to the side. His hands cupped her ass, lifting her to his mouth as she assisted his efforts, hooking a thumb under the tiny scrap of lace covering her soft folds.

Tig was breathing, hot and heavy, on her wetness, relishing in her squirming. "Want something, Red?" The old biker taunted.

"I need it, Sarge." She huffed, digging her heels into Tig's neck.

The Sergeant relented, falling face first into her slick pussy, wasting no time lapping her full length, from asshole to clit before circling the throbbing bundle of nerves at her bow. His tongue lapped at the burning amber liquid underneath her, tasting the scorching cinnamon flavored liquid fire before her ran his tongue through her folds again. It was the best shot of his life. He wasn't getting drunk on anything but Vega.

She bucked beneath him, rising up in his hands, off the counter until her entire weight rested on her shoulders. She was bending for him, keening towards his lips as he tasted her.

His lips were pursed, sucking hard on the hard little bud of nerves nestled between her legs, causing her to cry out, when the front door opened.

"Oy, bloody 'ell, Tigger! Ye can' take this fuckin' shite ta yer room, aye?" The Scot yelled.

"Shit!" The redhead hissed, jerking up as much as her position would allow as the bottom half of her body was still up in the air, wrapped around Tig, her ass sitting in his hands. Her thighs clamped down on Tig's cheeks and she looked over, blushing as Chibs stared at the pair on the bar.

"Can't exactly worry about that now." Tig chuckled, his voice muffled by his girl's thighs. "Almost done, can you get the fuck out?"

"Clay's askin' fer ye. I'll, uh – explain the situation." Chibs laughed before turning around and closing the door behind him.

"Little help, huh doll?" Tig muttered.

Slowly, Vega opened her legs for Tig, allowing him to get out from between her legs. His hands still on her ass, he lifted her up and pulled her forward, off of the bar and gently seated her on one of the stools in front of him.

"Pressed for time here, sweetheart." He insistently tugged at his belt, ripping his jeans open.

"After all that, you still think this is gonna happen?" She laughed.

"What? Bad time?" He chuckled. "Come on, baby. Help your Sergeant out." His generous length sprung forth into her waiting hands. She spit on the head of his cock, working her hands up and down his length, running circles over the velvety head with her thumb. "Shit, that's good, Red." He hummed, hands on his hips and as he bent back, hips jutted forward towards her plush, pink lips.

Vega moaned around his length, pleased with the feel of his cock filling her throat as she worked her hands around the base, rolling his balls in her palm.

He wrapped his hands in a handful of red hair, tangling it in his fingers. "That's it, Star Girl. Take it all, baby." He gently nudged her head down until he could feel her throat clench and heard the telltale sounds of her gagging as he pressed against her gag reflex, deep in her throat. "Shit, Red, you're the fucking best." He muttered, jerking forward until she choked. He spent himself down her throat, his hips jerking with each spurt of hot, white seed as she took it all down.

Vega smirked up at him, watching him as she released his softening cock from her lips. Tig smiled back, tucking himself back in his jeans and fastening himself. She delicately wiped her thumb around the outline of her lips, attempting to fix the smears in her lipstick. "Are you forgetting something?" She asked, her voice seething in sarcasm.

"Sorry, baby." He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her lips. His hands smoothed down her tangled red curls. "Later, doll. Later." His long legs already striding for the front door. "Duty calls."


	5. Cold Comfort

**This chapter took a lot longer than I expected just because I was so ill prepared for it. It took a lot more research to wrap my head around than I thought because the topic is equal parts terrifying and fascinating. I ended up rewriting this three times. **

**I won't beat around the bush. This chapter is about ****necrophilia****. **

**In season one, episode seven, Tig mentions his obsession with death to Clay and manages to freak the SOA president out a bit. **

**Disclaimer:**** I do not condone or participate in any of the following activities, but I do find the idea intriguing. I am not trying to glamorize it. I'm merely putting my own spin on it. **

**I know this isn't everyone's cup of tea, it was more of a personal challenge. I suggest if it offends you or you find the idea of sexual gratification from the deceased disgusting and generally unpleasant, you skip this chapter and come back for the next where things will be back to normal. You have been warned. **

**Thank you all so much and I will stop rambling now so you can read.**

* * *

_1985_

"It's $800, right?" Tig asked, his voice hushed. It seemed to echo off the bare walls in the dim light.

"Nice try, partner. $1,500 flat. $800 won't even get your dick wet." The clerk said, jangling the key ring as he locked the door behind him and put the keys down on the table.

"You drive a hard bargain." Tig muttered, pulling a wad of cash from his own pocket and counting out a few bills. "It better be fucking worth it."

"Oh, believe me, it is. Experience of a lifetime, right Freddy?" Tig's connection, Jeff, asked.

"Exactly. Tonight's menu is fresh off the truck. Best pussy I've seen in a while. One's a suicide, bitch OD'd on something so there's not a mark on her. The other one was a domestic violence case, blunt force to the back of the head. The swelling in her face is almost gone, though. You can barely tell."

"I call the pill popper!" Jeff exclaimed, handing over a few bills.

"Stack looks a little light there, brother." Tig observed aloud.

"Freddy and I have a longstanding relationship." Jeff explained.

"That's right." Freddy nodded. "You make this a habit, we can work out a deal."

"Still think this is a little steep." Tig muttered, forking over the fifteen hundred dollars.

"Look, man. You think you can get a fix elsewhere, be my fucking guest. I'm offering you prime, virgin corpse here. You find someone who will give you first crack at some dead bitch's pussy for less than fifteen hundred and I'll give you a full refund. Its not easy to come by, and it sure as hell isn't cheap."

"He's right, man. It may be weeks before we get this opportunity again." Jeff told Tig quietly.

"I've got rooms to fill, gentlemen. Can I show you to the back, or should I make a few phone calls?"

It didn't take a lot of deliberating for Tig to come to a decision. "No, let's do this."

He had been fixating on this idea for a long time. It was time to finally make his dream a reality.

"Alright, boys. Follow me."

He led the young men down a long corridor. It was dimly lit and dank. It was decorated evenly with plain white doors with gold hinges and door knobs.

They came to a stop in front of the first room. He pointed to Tig's friend, Jeff, and opened the door slowly. "This one's all you, bud. You know the drill." He laughed.

"Alright!" He exclaimed, before patting Tig on the shoulder. "You have fun, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." Tig nodded. With that, Jeff entered the dim room and shut the door behind him.

"Your room is right down here." Freddy said, walking forward a few more steps. They rounded a corner and ended up in front of another similar door. The man twisted the knob and opened the door, reaching inside to flick on the light.

The smell of death hit Tig quickly. It wasn't bad, like a decaying, bloating carcass. It was more toxic and sweet, like chemicals and embalming fluid.

"Alright, ground rules: first off, no leaving marks. She's delicate, her skin can tear and scar. If you do some weird biting shit or try and choke her, it will leave bruise like marks that will be hard to cover. If I lose my job, you'll lose your golden opportunity at corpse humping, so keep that in mind. Second, I wouldn't try and shove anything in her open mouth, its likely to slam shut on you. Bad idea. I suggest front entry and backdoor only. Its just a better idea. You'll find Vaseline and condoms on the side table. Make sure you use them. Don't leave ANY traces behind. You have until five AM. You need to have the room cleaned up and be out of here by then. Everything has to be pristine by the time my boss comes in at six. You understand?"

"Yeah, man. Yeah." Tig choked out.

"Alright." Freddy patted the tall man on the back. "Have a nice night."

Tig took a deep breath, taking his first inside on the exhale. Once he cleared the threshold, the mortician closed the door behind him.

In closed quarters, the smell of death was much more palpable. He could practically taste it with each inward breath. As he approached the table she was on, he felt an awkward sense of calm, the smell and taste overwhelming his senses. He felt nervous, even though she was lying there, naked under a sheet.

Tig was equal parts anxious and nervous to see his Sleeping Beauty. He walked up to her slowly, quietly taking in all of her features. She was absolutely perfect.

Her life essence took along with it the flush to her cheeks, causing them to appear pale and sunken in. There was a slight cut on her lower lip, almost black with dried scabs. Death brought along with it a slight blue tinge to her tight lips that Tig found fascinating. Her hair was flared out, blonde waves crashing down around her angular face. Her left eye was swollen, purple with old bruising that the pre-embalming draining wasn't able to remove. Past that, he couldn't see her eyes. He really didn't want to.

Her closed eyes saw nothing, never would again. She wouldn't be able to judge him, look at him in fear. It would ruin the mood.

Moments passed and Tig still found himself admiring her quiet beauty. The silence they shared was so peaceful and calming, he almost didn't want to break it, to mar its perfection with actions. Then he foolishly reached out his hands and his fingertips brushed along the protruding bone of her cheek. It all happened at once, like a shock of electricity. He felt the urge coursing through his veins, shivering through his system until it solidified his cock to attention.

He looked away, embarrassed for a split second at the feelings he was having for this woman. He knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn't harbor feelings for a corpse, shouldn't want to do the acts he saw so vividly in his mind's eye when he looked away, but he couldn't help it.

There, lying on the cold metal slab in front of him, was the most perfect creature he could imagine. She was willing and compliant. She couldn't walk away, couldn't put up a fight. There was no chance of rejection, only unbridled affection.

Ever so slowly, he wrapped his thick fingers in the cool, smooth cotton of the sheet over her body. In one swift motion, he whipped the sheet off to reveal an entire canvas of pale, blue tinged, white. His cobalt gaze traced the expanse of her body, trailing over pert, round breasts topped with rosy pebbles that were diamond hard, the smooth dip of her stomach just beyond her rib cage, and the jut of her pelvic bone just before he settled on the tuft of light brown hair covering her welcoming womanhood. She was riddled with small marks, finger tip shaped bruises covering most of her body.

All the coldness and stillness, it was a beautiful thing. It was like a taste of forbidden fruit, one of the most deviant acts conceivable. He was about to take this woman in a way that no one else ever had, one no one else ever would again.

He took his time with undressing, removing one article at a time until he stood before her, completely nude, his hard length pointing awkwardly in the cold room. He considered his options, how he would approach her. He decided, finally, on hoisting himself onto the metal table, straddling her hips with his legs. Mounting her, he had to bear down on his lower lip to gain control over himself. He almost lost it right there.

Tig's hands rested idly at his sides, afraid to ruin the moment. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do first, but he knew by the tightening in his balls that he wasn't going to last long.

He knelt down slowly, his lips leering somewhere close to her ear. "Its alright, sweetheart. I won't hurt you. I promise." He whispered. He placed a chaste kiss to her tight, slate gray lips. He murmured to himself at the brush of cool skin against his lips, savoring the texture of the cut on her lip. It was so much different from the living.

The sensation he felt from that one kiss was almost enough to send him over the edge. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but it wouldn't be the first time he gained pleasure from something so taboo and aberrant.

He inhaled deeply before easing back, growing accustomed to the chemical fumes now. He was hard as a rock and more than ready to throw his many doubts to the wind.

He reached over her body towards the small table that Freddy had prepared. He felt the cool of her breast brush against his chest doing so, causing tremors across his whole body. He lingered in that position before retrieving a foil packet that he then fumbled with until he created a satisfying rip.

Tig rolled the condom on and next reached for the Vaseline, popping the top and finding the container half empty. He momentarily thought about all the other men that must find Freddy's business… _comforting._ It helped egg him on. He dug out a good amount of product using two fingers.

"Do you mind, darlin'?" Tig asked, looking to her stoic face for an answer. "Of course you don't." He muttered quietly.

He pushed his hand between her parted legs and felt the smooth divide in between. He ran his fingers up the length of her slit before parting her folds and smoothing the lubricating jelly there, centering on her entrance.

When he pulled his hand away, all that lingered was Vaseline residue. He used that hand to stroke himself through the condom before teasing her center with the head of his ready cock. "Nice and steady." He muttered, before nudging her moistened entrance and forcing himself inside.

The groan of pleasure he emitted was immense. Never before had he felt something so wonderfully different. She was cold and tight. Impossibly tight, like a vice clamping down on his length to the point of strangulation. The coolness only heightened it. He was afraid to move. Friction would only cause unnecessary heat.

He allowed himself to settle for a moment before he found a rhythmic pattern they would both find pleasurable. It was slow and voracious. He found himself savoring every sensation in a way he never had before.

It was around the time when the heat started to build that he felt himself really on the brink. There wasn't that original internal cool anymore. It had been holding him over, keeping him back from the edge.

To steady himself, he braced both hands on her rigid chest, careful to avoid her décolleté area. One more thrust of his hips and he came hard in hot torrents inside of the condom with a violent grunt.

As he caught his breath, his cock softened inside of her. He didn't withdraw, only crumpling himself closer to her, laying his head on her cool chest and focusing on the lack of a heart beat.

"I love you." He whispered. There, he fell asleep.

* * *

_2008_

"I told you, man. I didn't need to hear that shit." Clay protested after Tig had finished his drunken rant.

"I needed to tell someone, brother." Tig shrugged, taking another long draw from his cigarette.

"Fucked up shit like that stays on your mind?" Clay joked, swigging a pull of beer from his bottle.

"Its not so much that as it is a coping mechanism, I guess. After I came back from Nam, they made me see a shrink. She said some shit like that."

"Fucking dead girls is a coping mechanism?" Clay scoffed, choking on his beer a bit. "I feel as though you may need to seek a second opinion."

"I told you about my dad, right? What the PTSD turned him into?" Tig finally said after a long, labored silence.

"You may have mentioned it a time or two." Clay downed the rest of his beer and inadvertently slammed the bottle down on the wooden table in front of the leather couch they had been inhabiting for the past few hours.

"It knocked a couple screws lose, if you know what I mean. He began engaging in some... illicit activities. When my mother found out he was raping me, she was livid. My dad didn't stop beating her, even after she stopped breathing. I came home from school and found her in the kitchen in a pool of her own blood. I stayed there at her side for four days before the neighbors reported anything. He came home a few days later like nothing ever happened. He was questioned, but never arrested. He never paid for any of the shit he did."

They shared an uncomfortable silence for some time before Tig spoke up. "Sorry. I didn't want to put more on you. I know you're stressed."

"Hey, don't fall apart on me. There's not a lot I cant handle, but you're my backup. If you conk out, I don't know who else I'd turn to."

"Jax?"

"You know I don't trust that kid as far as I can throw him. He's soft. He hasn't had to go through all the shit we have done for the club."

"Yeah, guess you're right, Clay." Tig huffed.

"Damn right, I am." The club president laughed. He glanced at the wall clock, gawking at the time. "Shit. Gem's gonna kill me!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He took pause to regard his friend for a moment. "You gonna turn in soon, brother?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just one more smoke." He nodded, butting out the forgotten cigarette left idly in his hand during their long talk. He grabbed his pack from his vest pocket and pulled out another, pursing it between his lips.

"You gonna be alright?" Clay asked, still looking concerned.

"I'll pull through." Tig nodded slowly.

"Bring it in." Clay motioned for Tig to stand and embrace him. Tig complied reluctantly, trying to hold himself together. The hug was strong and awkwardly long.

"If you need anything, you know we're all here for you, right?" Clay said into Tig's neck.

"Always." Tig nodded slowly. "Its the only constant in my life. The club has always been there for me."


	6. The Thrill of the Chase

**As promised, things are back to normal this week. As I wrote this chapter, I couldn't help but notice how completely different it is from the last. Pretty much a complete 360. **

**This is loosely based on something Tig mentions in episode nine of the first season. At one point he mutters aloud "This is why I beat hookers." I wasn't going to write this at first, but then I got one of my devilish ideas.**

**As a result of the prompt, this is full of abusive, Non-Con scenarios and gratuitous violence. Viewer discretion is advised.**

**If you can't handle possessive, BDSM type sexual situations in which women are abused and dominated, please take heed.**

* * *

_2008_

The first thing Tig noticed was the red hair. It wasn't a fiery red, but more of an off-burgundy plum color. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was enough to keep him interested.

The sway in her walk was his second reminder, a nice distraction from his everyday. She was every bit a woman and she made sure every man knew it as she walked by.

They agreed on a price before she got in the car. She was apprehensive, thinking the blindfold was unnecessary and strange, but she acquiesced anyway.

He parked, helping her out of the vehicle and undoing the blindfold slowly.

"You wanted to do this out here, honey?" She asked, looking around skeptically.

"Something wrong, sweetheart? You said you were down for anything." Tig mused.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you meant -"

"Meant what? I'm just looking for a good time, darlin'. I paid good money for the night. Are we gonna do this, or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. I guess so." She nodded, stopping in her tracks to face him.

"That's more like it. Now, I'm gonna be a gentleman and let you get a head start."

"Head start?" She asked, her voice breaking. She was shivering now.

"That's right. I want you to run."

"Run?" She whispered.

"You said anything, darlin'. I paid enough for anything."

"I didn't think -"

"You're wastin' precious time here." Tig smirked.

"You want me to..." Her voice trailed off into the dark of the woods.

"Run." Tig hissed the word, so dark and calm.

Something about his demeanor, the look on his face, startled her. She got goosebumps, felt uneasy.

She didn't hesitate. The girl bolted for the woods, dashing and darting between trees, nearly tripping herself on upturned roots and low hanging branches.

When the brambles tangled in her loose curls and her heel snapped in the soil, she faltered, catching herself on the trunk of the tree, scratching her palm in the process. The fear and chase caused her to lose her breath easily. She felt trapped.

Tig caught up to her in a few long strides. He merely stretched his arm and was able to lock his hand around her ankle as she attempted to crawl away on all fours. "You're not really trying, sweetheart." He chuckled darkly. He never lost his breath once.

She struggled to wrench herself from his grip, but he was too strong. She kicked out with her naked foot and the sole connected squarely with his prominent nose. She heard a satisfying snap noise. She had managed to startle Tig.

Tig released his grip on her ankle only to bring his hand up to his bloody nose, dabbing at the running liquid now staining his neatly trimmed mustache. He regarded the blood, now staining his finger tips. He didn't look shocked or stunned, he looked determined. He licked his finger tips, first one, then the other, and then glared at the timid creature now closing in on herself on the forest floor before him. "You're gonna pay for that."

She was crying now. She knew she was cornered. She had little hope. "Please! I don't want to do this anymore." She begged, sobs breaking the words.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" He chastised. He wrapped a hand in her hair, wrenching her up by the roots of her locks. He threw her forward into the trunk of the adjacent tree and took both wrists in one hand and held them over her head. His other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, burying her cheek in the rough bark of the tree causing her to squeal.

"Come on, baby. We're gonna have so much fun." He taunted, putting his full weight on her. He loosened his grip on her throat so his hand could travel the planes of her body, stopping at the curve of her ass.

His fingers crept lower, inching towards the cleft of her ass where her miniskirt stopped. He didn't stop there, following the trail lower, finding the string to her thong and tugging it until the elastic popped against her ass and she yelped. "That's it, darlin'."

Tig hooked his finger under the lacey string between her rounded ass cheeks and trailed along the path until his fingers rested against her wet pussy. He teasingly delved one finger into her folds and smirked to himself at the sopping wetness he found.

"Please." She whimpered, helpless and scared stiff.

"That's right. Beg for it, sweetheart."

"Stop." She began to cry quietly.

"That might be what your mouth says, but your pussy tells a different story." Tig murmured, plunging one finger into her slick channel. "Nice, tight little whore." He groaned.

"If you let me go, I won't say anything, I swear." She was frantic now. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut. This is a business deal." He said calmly. He pulled his finger from her tight hole and spread the wetness down her slit, swirling languidly around her clit, causing her to stifle a moan. "Plain and simple."

He removed his hand abruptly and gripped the seam of her thong, releasing her wrists to pull with both hands until the underwear tore in half. She didn't dare move her arms. She cried out in surprise when her underwear fell away into Tig's strong hands. He brought the damp fabric up to her lips and shoved the ruined lace into her mouth. "There's a good girl."

When she struggled, he shoved her brutally into the tree. The rough bark around the trunk braised her soft cheek and she cried out, thrashing her arms.

Tig thought quickly as soon as she swung and struck his face again. He took her lacy tank top and shoved it up her back and over her head, finding her bare underneath. Before the spaghetti straps fell off her arms, he twisted the fabric and fashioned a makeshift binding around her wrists. She was helpless against him now.

Tig hummed to himself in triumph. He liked the fight this little spitfire provided, up until the point that it hindered his fun. He liked the way she looked, bound and gagged against the tree in front of him. He relished the sight of her, her whimpering and crying there, irreparably.

He took a step forward and she screamed, nearly crumpling on the forest floor. Tig had to wrap his arms around her waist to keep her up. "Easy, darlin'. I don't want you on your knees just yet." His hands trailed up her flat stomach and he settled his palms flat against her breasts. They fit nicely in his hands without spilling over. He smirked as he felt her nipples, hard and stiff, as he brushed his rough hands over them.

The girl shivered, thrashing away from his touch. Tig pulled away reluctantly, gripping her upper arms roughly. He shoved her face first back into the tree trunk. As though it was second nature, his hand wrapped around his pocket knife and flipped it open without blinking an eye. The blade nicked her throat as he held it steady and almost instantly she froze.

The smallest trickle of blood trailed down the plane of her neck. Tig grabbed her chin and pulled her jaw up so his lips were close to her ear. "I like it rough." He growled, his teeth nipping at her ear lobe a bit. "Are we gonna play nice now, sweetheart?" She gave him the faintest nod, afraid of moving too much and cutting her throat again. "That's right, baby." Slowly, gently, he pulled the knife away and pocketed it.

His broad hands went to her hips, drawing her waist back towards him as he shoved her head forward. He kicked her legs apart and watched her squirm at the sound of him opening his zipper, releasing his hard cock to the chill of the night. The action provided some release. The cool breeze brought with it a calm to his heated flesh and he hissed through bared teeth.

He took his turgid length into his hand and ran the velvety head of his cock down her wet cunt. After a few passes, enjoying his view of her trembling with arousal and need, he plunged into her depths in one smooth motion. Immediately, the girl fell forward, bracing her bound hands awkwardly on the tree in front of her.

Tig relished the feel of her warm, wet cunt wrapping around him, enveloping him inside of her, strangling him in warm, wet ecstasy. He restrained himself from moving, settling into her, counting his own heart beats. Several beats passed before he worked up the courage to move, with drawing completely before surging back in.

He kept up a brutal pace, punishing his whore with the violent thrusts of his hips. His sac made perfect contact with her clit on every pass. The sound of their bodies clapping together was interjected periodically with her quiet sobs and Tig's grunts of pleasure.

He lost himself in the moment, mercilessly pounding into her as she struggled to keep balance in her awkward position, hands bound and feet in an unstable stance.

She was becoming more slick the longer he went on and he could feel her muscles contracting, fluttering around him.

Before he had the chance to burst, nestled inside her, he pulled out and released his grip on her hips, knocking her off center. She struggled, catching herself on her knees, legs spread wide and her tied hands having a difficult time pushing herself up.

Tig repositioned himself, coming to stand in front of his whore, whipping her whole body up and forward by tangling a hand in her mussed up hair and nearly scalping her with the force he used. His other hand made quick work of the ruined thong in her mouth and before she could protest or scream, his throbbing cock was down the back of her throat.

Her first reaction was to lock her jaw. As soon as Tig felt her teeth close around the base of his dick as she sputtered and gagged on his full length, he smacked her with the back of his hand. "Don't even think about it, sweetheart." He felt her jaw relax almost instantly.

Instead of using his hips to piston his cock in her mouth, he gripped her hair in both hands, digging his fingers into her scalp, and moved her to his whims. He was fucking her face. She was trying her best to perform, he could tell, but it was hard for her to breathe through the tears. Still, it wasn't long before he felt the tightening in his balls return.

Using his thumb, he stroked her cheek, feeling the brush of his digit through the thick membrane of tissue before slapping her again. He continued the pattern a few more times, causing a sting and then soothing it with a tender touch, stinging and and caressing his own cock in the process.

Finally, the restraint was too much for him. He shoved the whore back on her heels and pulled his cock from her mouth with a sick pop. The sobbing girl leaned forward to balance herself.

Tig gripped himself at the base, tapping the velvety head of his throbbing member on her lower lip a few times as he pumped himself with a tight fist until he came, gushing hot seed on her chin, her cheeks, and very little in her open, waiting mouth.

She was still crying when he finished.

Tig stood there, head thrust back, hips jutting forward, his softening cock in his hand as he rocked lightly on his feet, swaying in post-orgasm ecstasy. After a few heavy breaths, Tig finally worked up the nerve to tuck himself back into his jeans. He ran his hands through his hair, taking another deep breath.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Had a great time." He grunted, smoothing her hair as his thumb stroked her cheek. Then, he started to leave.

"Wait, where are you going?" She screamed, her voice breaking after all the strain. "You can't just leave me here!"

"Nothin' personal, sweetheart." He scoffed. "But I've got a long ride home."


	7. Patchover Party

**This chapter is a throwback for my darling dearest DeDe324 here on FanFic. She asked me to go back to episode four with the patch over party and give my take on the foursome that ensues thanks to Clay. De writes some wonderful, _adult_ SOA and Boondock Saints fiction that I highly recommend. **

**I did this a little differently, no dubbing or bullshit summaries, I went straight for the gold. I feel like everyone's waited long enough for an update. I know it's a bit shorter than usual, but I felt like it was necessary. I'm awful at group sex. **

**Just a little warning, my typical graphic smut follows as well as a few racial slurs. **Regardless, I hope everyone enjoys. ****

****De, this one's for you. ****

* * *

When Tig closed his eyes, had them sealed shut, he could swear he was in heaven. Absolute heaven or, at least, as close as any Son would ever get.

His head swam as it hit the plush velour pillows. Maybe he had had one too many shots to numb his disappointment. His arms still hummed from the kick in the rifle and the vibrations of the shots he fired in defense of the club, new and old members alike.

He could kiss Clay right now, in this very moment. He made a mental note to show his unwavering gratitude to his fearless leader as soon as he could feel his legs. They felt like Play-Doh or silly putty; strong enough to support himself but if he attempted movement, he would fall apart.

This was the kind of night he had dreamed of, the kind of night he truly deserved. Sure, his preoccupations with the macabre had gotten him in trouble the past week. He didn't mean to blow his load in the mouths of those beaner bitches, it had literally just fallen into his lap. Tig was never one to pass up a golden opportunity but he understood that it cost the club a lot. He would seek penance for those actions. He would swear off of his vices for whatever length of time seems fit, but he didn't see the need to deny himself in this moment.

Definitely not now when he found himself at the mercy of not one or two, but three of Jury's lovely ladies. Mistresses of the night. Streetwalkers, some may call them. goddesses, Tig thought.

He did the figures in his head absentmindedly as they walked down the hallway. He came up with $4,500, at least. Boy, did Clay love him.

He would never doubt that love. Not now, as three sets of hands were pulling at his clothes and he struggled to keep his eyes open and focused.

"Tell us what you want, sugar."

"Jury said we could show you a real good time."

"Yeah, whatever you want."

"Everything." He hummed, shutting his eyes and focusing on the buzz, on every sensation. "All I want is everything."

He thought about asking their names, but he really could care less. Their voices, their faces, they all melded together in his mind's eye. Three blonde whores knelt by his sides on the cushy, large bed.

He didn't need to know anything else as their hands roamed his naked body. Through his chest hair, over his arms, up his legs, grazing the frame of his prominent jaw.

Never where he wanted. Not where he needed to be touched.

He was aching, rigid, rock hard in the most painful way. He needed some sort of relief. Something to take the edge off or he would be ending this party a little earlier than expected.

Soft, full lips placed gentle kisses around his jaw, lulling him into a trance. He barely reacted when the lips found their way graciously to his own. Settling there, hands tangled in the hair behind his ears and he felt the bed shift. His kissing partner then straddled his chest, pinning his arms by his sides. They each sought a voracious pace, finally finding a rhythm when Tig surrendered himself to the vixen's mercy.

It was in the midst of this ravenous embrace that the other present parties decided to make their presence known.

He felt lips, wet, warm and wonderful; wrap themselves around the pulsing head of his cock and suck hard, swirling a devilish tongue around his dripping tip. Simultaneously, another mouth used its soft, moist tongue to lap at his sack. Tig couldn't hold back. His hips jerked up in surprise and he groaned, raw and animalistically into the mouth of his kissing partner.

The girls giggled, their lithe little hands gripping him firmly, working him in tandem. He suppressed the urge to cry out, but his mouth was preoccupied. The vixen pinning his chest down with clamped thighs was working her own magic with a nimble, skilled tongue, twirling and dancing with his own, dulling his senses.

He almost lost it when he felt something sharp, perhaps a fingernail, trace the ring of muscle nestled between his clenching ass cheeks. He bucked upwards like a bronco, jostling the trio of women and thrusting himself into them furiously. He felt the girl gag, swallowing around his full, hard, length. The tip of his cock hit the back of her throat and he felt the muscles contract, felt her muscles tighten and relax as she fought the reflex to vomit, resisting the bile working its way up her throat.

At almost the same time, the girl tonguing his sack sucked one of his jewels into her mouth, nipping the velvety skin with her teeth. He groaned again, feeling the familiar tightening in his balls. His kissing partner pulled away as soon as she felt his muscles tighten in response, the telltale sign that he was fighting to regain control, to ease off the impending surges of ecstasy.

The girl tightened her thighs, holding him still. Her hands braced on his shoulders and she used all of her strength to pin him down.

The remaining girls quickened their pace, showing their skill and expertise. They were well worth the wait, Tig thought.

His head rolled back, swimming in the overindulgence of all his senses. Every nerve ending tingled with overexposure and the desensitization of top shelf liquor, the surging feeling of power and pride from showing those fucking Myans who ran these streets.

"Oh, shit!" He growled. His toes curled and his hips rose off the bed as much as the mistresses would allow. His eyes shot open, looking straight up at the cream colored stucco ceiling as he tried to focus.

His cock was buried in a set of cheeks, she was sucking and humming in approval as the other used her tongue to lap from the cleft of his taint up to the mouth of her equally skilled partner. When their tongues entwined around Tig's bulging head, that's when all hopes of composure folded. He screamed a slew of curse words, intensified and deranged gibberish in the heat of passion. They worked quickly to suck him down, catching every hot, spurting gush of salty seed in their mouths collectively until he was done. They jerked him off slowly with tight fists, milking him until they were sure he was spent.

They waited until his breathing had stilled and the seizing in his muscles subsided before the girl settled on his chest leaned down, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lip. "Feelin' better, darlin'?"

"Oh," he chuckled. "So much fucking better, sweetheart. You girls..." He laughed as they all stood, wiping their mouths and straightening their clothes. It was the first time he actually looked at them since they entered the back room and it made his legs feel weak again. "Remind me to thank Jury." He hummed, his eyes settling closed again against his will.

"Don't tell me that's all you've got, tiger." One of the blondes teased. There was no reply, only the sound of Tig snoring lightly.


	8. Rally in Reno (Part One)

**Happy premiere night, my loves! I hope everyone is prepared to start this "final ride." I get goose bumps just thinking about it!**

**I wanted to preface this chapter by saying that an overwhelming amount of my reviews and messages for this story are about Vega and Tig and the possibility of a spin off devoted souly to them. While Vega is one of my favorite OC's to date, I don't feel as though a happy ending of any sort for the pair would be right. **

**I strive for realistic writing, and the place and time these two met is just not ideal for this to spring into a budding relationship, especially since they unfortunately met pre-series when Tig was a much harder, darker man.**

**This having been said, I would like to say that this is my last planned rendezvous for Tig and my fiery-haired FOC. It felt right to me to end this now, to follow through with the rest of the story, since this is spanning throughout the entire series. That's not to say you'll never see her again. Never say never.**

**It means the world to me that you all love one of my creations so much. It's very rewarding to come up with someone that is so well liked. It's like a little piece of me.**

**This whole chapter is dedicated to my faithfuls. Alva Starr, DeDe324, mrsreedus69, and HGRHfan35 – you guys review without fail and give me reason to continue. I love you all so much!**

**While I'm at it, quick shout out to a former MC member and fellow coworker who told me about this burnout bar that is actually about two hours from where I live. The name was too good to pass up. **

**For reference, the setting is post season one, pre season two. Vega's been gone for a while, she left town. I don't want to get too much into it, so I merely hinted at the reasoning. I think it stands alone without needing extra fluff. This series was started primarily for smut, let's keep it that way. **

**Its bittersweet writing this, but I sincerely hope you all understand and can support my decision.**

**I decided to send these two off with a bang instead of a sizzle for the so many of you lovely readers, silent ones included, who love Vega so much. As I wrote this, I realized that I couldn't wrap it up in one chapter. Part two is coming as soon as I can get it finished. **

**I know, I know. I'm droning on and on. I feel like I've been neglectful of late. I'll stop rambling now. Please enjoy.**

* * *

_2009_

The water ran red, swirling clockwise into the abysmal depths of the shower drain, lingering on the porcelain a little longer than necessary. Tig hung his head on his arm, letting the heat and steady pounding of the shower's spray lull him into a false sense of security.

_Red_, he thought. It had been a long time since he had seen her, since the tint in her hair had stained his shower the softest shade of pink. Months, in fact, since she had taken off.

Idly, he remembered what was on his hands. It was the reason she left in the first place. They both knew what he had done, slaughtered an innocent. She had been someone's wife, a mother. Though it had been an accident, the blame still fell on his hands. Though, tonight was different.

The men Tig had done away with tonight were far from innocent. They were murderers themselves, drug cartel. They were into some very heavy shit and at first Tig was fine with Clay's orders. Now, though, Tig suffered from the aftermath that was plaguing his conscious after a kill.

He sought solace after the storm. He needed something to quiet his mind. He needed an escape.

* * *

Weeks had passed and Tig was still feeling restless, like something was unfinished. Even the long ride to the rally in Reno was leaving him feeling anxious, despite the calming effect long rides on his bike usually had on him. The desolate scenery was an afterthought, he could barely focus on the road. His mind was fully functioning on only one thought.

Finally, the seam of the desert melded into the scattered beginnings of the town. Before he knew it, Jax and Clay, the only two bikes flanked ahead of his own, were signaling to pull over and stop at this saloon style bar owned by a club friend.

They could hear the din of the rally encompassing the town in the distance. They were only a block or so from the festivities.

Tig rose from the bike on shaky legs, staggering as he dismounted. He felt that familiar tingle in his lower extremities as he regained feeling and relished in it. It oddly made him feel alive.

His brother's dismounted their Harley's in similar fashions, stretching their limbs and adjusting their leather after the long ride.

Tig took in his surroundings. This wasn't his first trip to Reno. In fact, he knew the area well and even been here a few times before, whether it be during runs or just for the heck of it. He had some pretty fond memories of the place. Though, they were all clouded and distorted by time and various illegal substances.

"You comin', Tig?" Juice asked, jarring his from his trance-like state.

"Yeah, Juicey." He said with a shake of the head, loosening his haphazard curls.

"You all right, man?" The mohawked Puerto Rican asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, yeah." Tig rushed the words, brushing off the comments as quickly as he could. He was alright. He was going to make sure of that.

Juice's eyes widened and he nodded slowly, understanding the pressures of the responsibilities in the club. Being Sergeant at Arms was heavy shit. The blue-eyed scoundrel wore the patch gracefully.

"Suck Bang Blow" the sign out front read. Tig smirked to himself at the fond memories. Indeed, the establishment offered all that it promised and more. Finally, he thought, some of Rob's girls would be able to help clear his mind. That, conjoined with liquor and whatever other paraphernalia he could get his grimy hands on would more than do the trick.

The Sons entered the bar one by one. Lead by Clay, they followed the procession to the bar where their good friend and business partner, Pretty Rob, was dishing out drinks and directing bar traffic.

Tig was watching the spectacle before him when he felt something shake his arm. "Are you all here, man?" Juice asked. "I just asked if you want a shot."

"Yeah, yeah. Top shelf whiskey. Make it a double." Tig muttered, dragging his hand over his face, then back up to brush his hair back into place.

The younger Son regarded Tig carefully before peeling off to fetch the liquor.

Tig took to people watching, setting his sights on a group of women playing pool in the back corner of the shady bar. They would be easy pickings if he could clear his mind long enough to focus on the kill.

_The kill_. Shit. He was so mind-fucked, he couldn't see straight.

"Here, man." Juice said, handing Tig a glass tumbler full of liquid, amber colored fire. Tig downed the glass in one gulp, tilting his head back and welcoming the burn that trailed down his throat to his stomach.

He happened to open his eyes in that moment and through the distorted view of the cylindrical bottom of his glass, he saw red. Fire red. The tantalizing tendrils of a neon red mane of full, luscious curls dancing freely as the front door to the building opened. Tig lowered the glass, hoping beyond reason that he wasn't just seeing things. As soon as he had, the door shut and the vision was gone, running down the sidewalk.

"Hey, hey, Juicey!" Tig stammered, smacking his friend on the back. No sooner had he turned around then Tig was pushing his empty glass into his hands and walked towards the door. "I'll be back, brother." He called over his shoulder and was out the front door.

He had almost convinced himself that he was only seeing things up until his booted feet hit the sidewalk. As soon as he was out in the crowded streets of Reno, he saw the neon red waves hanging in the slight breeze as she practically ran a few yards in front of him.

Tig had to stagger to keep up. He was jogging down the streets, pushing the passerby's out of his path. Faces blurred and all the various noises from the festivities melded into a clamorous din. He tried to keep his eyes on her, his focus souly on that bright red vision before him.

He watched as she crossed the street, dipping and diving between pedestrians and bikes until she made it clear to the other side, hurrying to run inside another bar on the other side. Tig didn't pay attention to much else, running out into traffic and nearly getting side-swiped to make it to that front door.

He pushed his way inside and looked frantically to catch a glimpse of that perfect coif passing by the bar only to stop by a jukebox and pull out her phone. He could tell from the glow that lit up a halo around her features. He still couldn't see her face. Finally, he had her cornered.

He felt as though he was floating through the room. Everything else melted into nothing and suddenly he was just behind her and she was mumbling quietly into her phone.

He knew it was her. He could sense it. That, or he had deluded himself into believing it in this moment. Either way, he knew he needed her.

He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him as soon as her cellphone flipped shut.

She looked up at him in stunned silence, biting her lower lip gently. They stood like that for some time until she whispered his name.

"Is that really you, gorgeous?" Tig asked, his voice barely above a raspy whisper. He reached out, brushing his thick fingers through the ringlet waves framing her face.

She hadn't changed a bit. She was still all lean curves. Her perfect body was on display, wearing nothing more than a leopard print bikini top that did little to hide her piercings and a leather mini skirt that pleated just enough to cover her ass, but little more. He felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing every man in Reno was getting a free peep show. They could even see her motorcycle tattoo in memoriam to her father. She wasn't dressed any different than any other sweet butt or old lady at the rally, but it still upset him.

"Yeah." She breathed. "It's me, Sarge."

"You ran from me." He grunted, staring at her, memorizing her face. "You aren't still scared of me, are you, Red?"

"I'm standing here, aren't I?" She scoffed, pushing his hand away forcefully. "I saw you boys pull in. I should have just walked the other way." She admitted.

"But you didn't. You walked into the bar. You walked in, then you ran as soon as you saw me."

"It was a mistake." She grimaced, looking away. "I shouldn't have come here."

"What brings you here anyway, Star Girl?"

"The rally, same as you." She shrugged. "One of Daddy's favorites." She looked over to her left, to the back hallway of the bar. Tig knew she was calculating an escape before she uttered the words, "Excuse me. I have to go." She bolted, rushing for the women's restroom.

It took a moment for Tig's feet to catch up with the rest of his body, for him to rush down the corridor after her and push his way into the female bathroom. As soon as the other patrons spotted him, they rushed to leave. He was finally alone with Vega as she slipped into a stall, fumbling to catch the lock before him.

Of course Tig was right behind her, strong-arming his way into the stall. He caught the girl by the waist and spun her behind him, pushing her face first into the door of the stall and placing the lock in place before she could blink.

"Didn't think I would follow you, huh sweetheart?" Tig chuckled, darkly.

"The thought crossed my mind." She huffed, struggling against his weight to free herself. He had his hand braced on the back of her neck and her cheek pressed to the filthy, graffiti covered door panel.

"We need to talk, V." He said sternly.

She shuttered at his tone. He very rarely felt the need to use her real name or called her by an initial. It was all sweet nothings and pet names with Tig, even if that was for the fact that he couldn't actually remember the girls name.

"What's there to discuss?" She asked, trying to brush him off again.

He settled behind her, all of his weight against her back. His hard length dug its way into the soft flesh of her lower back and she moaned softly. He had been painfully hard since he heard her breathe his name. He never thought he would hear such heavenly perfection again.

His breath was hot on her neck as he looked close to her ear. "You know why you ran." He growled.

"You mean after the hit? After you killed that woman?" She said, defiantly.

"You don't know anything for sure." He brushed her hair over her shoulder, baring her chest and back. He placed a soft kiss to the crevice where shoulder met neck.

He expected to lower her guard, but only succeeded in closing her off more. "Tig." She said his name with an aire of disgust. "Stop."

And for once in his life, he did. He backed away, pulling his hands off of her, hanging his head. He knew he couldn't escape what he had done and, besides the obvious exception of his best friend, not one living person knew what he had done that night.

None except Vega.

"You changed, Tig. The moment you came back that night, hands covered in blood, shaking like a leaf. I'd never seen you like that. You scared me." She said, voice suddenly calm, understanding. "The next day when Gemma told me what happened, I knew."

"And you ran?" Tig growled, hurt plaguing his voice.

"It's what I'm good at!" She said, defensively. "You scared me, Tig. I felt like I didn't know you anymore."

Tig understood completely. Since the moment he signed off on killing a brother, he felt changed. It only progressed when he realized he had accidentally slain an innocent mother. That was his downfall.

He felt soft hands trace his rough cheek and he trembled, looking up to meet that angelic face. She looked at him with resounding adoration. Something he never received. "What happened out there, Sarge?"

It took him a moment to clear his throat. "Club business." He finally replied, afraid to even admit his grave mistake aloud.

She understood, of course, sighing deeply, tracing her thumb over his lower lip. "That's what I thought." She sighed. "I'm gonna go now, Sarge."

She turned slowly, barely had her hand on the lock of the door handle before Tig barreled into her, pushing his full weight into her so she was flush with the door panel again, breathing heavy and face turned against the heavy panel. He crushed his lips to hers, putting his desperation into the kiss, begging her to stay, to understand what the club expected him to become. It didn't make him any less of a man, it meant that lives depended on him to be there, to stay strong. It took a moment for her resistance to weaken, for her to welcome him and allow his tongue to meld with hers, twining and tangling until their breath was labored.

His hands roamed her body, raking his palms over her full, barely covered breasts and then down over her sumptuous curves, dragging over her ribs and over her leather skirt, slipping under the pleats before kneading at her thighs until his fingers ground into her inner thighs, teasing her center.

She hummed her approval, her head falling back into his mouth, trying to turn herself against his rough touch, but he held her steady.

One hand gripped the pillowy flesh near her womanhood, the other wrapped around her throat. His kisses trailed to her jaw, down her neck, until he was nipping and suckling the cascading stars on her shoulder and back. They were all visible to him and he absolutely loved it.

He nipped the bikini strings with his teeth and tugged, pulling her breasts free. Her nipples were hard little diamonds, brushing the cold surface of the stall. The barbells nestled in the budding hardness of her tits made tantalizing noise as they rubbed against the metal door, further stiffening the rosy peaks.

The hand between her clamped thighs ventured further, finally pushing her obtrusive panties to the side and wasting little time in delving into her folds. He ran his fingers from her slick cavern to her clit, distributing her wetness and causing her to lock her weak knees.

"Sarge." She moaned, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the stall as Tig's hand wrapped about her throat again.

"That's it, beautiful." He growled. His fingers continued their ministrations. He was swirling figure eights around her clit with vigor as his thumb pressed against her throbbing channel.

Vega bit her lower lip, trying to remain focused on staying upright. She felt herself nearing the precipice before she knew it.

Tig felt it to, felt her cunt quivering, throbbing and pulsing in anticipation. He gave it a moment before he plunged into her depths, two fingers buried deep inside of her and his thumb pressing into the tight little rosebud of her asshole, applying pressure to the tight membrane as he stroked her inner pleasure zone. He tightened his grip on her throat, asphyxiating her as he strummed her to climax.

The bathroom door opened and a pair of women walked in, talking to each other. They quieted as soon as they noted the audible noises from one of the stalls, the telltale evidence of two sets of feet occupying the same space.

The first wave hit her with tidal force. Tig felt it, coming off of her in waves. Her hips rolled into his straining length with each pass of his talented fingers. She screamed his name, crushing his fingers as her tight muscles pulsed.

Tig kept rubbing her, stroking her through her climax until she was putty in his hands. She was a melted mass of muscles, completely spent. His grip on her throat finally gave and she took a deep gasping breath. Her ragged breathing was only intensified by the throes of her orgasm. It took several moments for her heart beat to slow and her composure to return.

Vega giggled at the realization that they had been caught. She had allowed this demon of a man, one she had run from and revered, to bring her to mind-blowing climax in the semi-privacy of a bathroom stall.

She heard the girls whisper more before they snuck out quietly, embarrassed for baring witness to such a private display.

"Scared them off, sweetheart." Tig said, sardonically. He pulled his hand from the dampness of her cunt and began sucking her sweetness off of each digit.

Now free, Vega allowed her body to relax. She turned around, facing Tig, gripping the cups of her bikini before replacing the halter strings and tying them around her neck. She smoothed out her skirt, then her hair, blushing lightly as Tig watched her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tig asked, watching her redress and reach for the door handle again.

"I'm going back to my room." She said coyly. "You coming, Sarge?"

Tig raised an eyebrow, thinking of the multiple implications of what she just said. "Of course, darlin'. I planned on it."


	9. Rally in Reno (Part Two)

**This, of course, is the long-awaited (I'm guessing here) finale of Tig and Vega. I didn't mean to keep anyone waiting for two months. I honestly just was having problems saying goodbye to these two. **

**I cannot thank you all enough for the love and kindness you have afforded me throughout this journey. I don't want to get too emotional here cause I know all you want is the smut, right? I hope that's the case, because that's all I was able to produce… **

**Special thanks to DeDe324 who always believes in my Tig abilities and my darling Annabeth who read through this and talked me into believing I wasn't going over the edge with what I produced. **

**All I wanted was to do one of my all-time favorite pairings justice. I hope I succeeded. **

**The following is rated R for nudity, strong sexual situations, mild violence, and language. Viewer discretion is advised.**

* * *

The romp to the hotel room was a tangled mesh of tongues and limbs. The two lovers barely pulled apart to walk the few blocks it took to get to Vega's hotel. Tig's hand always lingered over the curve of her ass, occasionally slipping under her short skirt to trace the line of her sopping wet panties.

There was a struggle to get the key fob into the slot on the door. It hindered their absent minded groping to finally push themselves into the bedroom where they could finally release the beasts they had been harboring for what felt like ages.

They had barely made it past the door when Tig spun the girl until her back pressed into the heavy oak precipice and slammed it shut. The biker wedged his knee between her thighs, widening her stance. He broke their tumultuous kiss just long enough to catch his breath, getting a good look at the breathtaking creature in his presence. She was panting, her breath still coming in ragged after the pounding orgasm he had given her in the bar. Her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink and her eyes were bulging and wide.

Vega used the opportunity to snake her hands around the Son's belt, unlocking the large, obtrusive buckle and pulling the genuine leather from the loops of his dark, fitted jeans that were worn in and clinging to his hips. The zipper slid down easily enough and she was able to slip her hands into the waistband of his boxers, wrapping both tiny hands around his girth. Tig hissed, hanging his head back as she stroked him, pushing his hips into her. "I missed this, Sarge." She purred.

He grunted in reply, lifting his knee until the fabric of jeans chaffed beautifully against her silky underwear and caused her to whimper. He hung his head beside hers, resting his forehead against the door, baring his teeth on her shoulder as she continued massaging his aching cock with her skilled hands. "That's it, baby." He growled. "You missed my dick, huh doll?"

In lieu of giving the expected oral answer, Vega merely hummed her approval, sinking to her knees in front of him before spitting on the velvety head of his hard length, adding moisture into the mix as she stroked him. Both hands working in tandem, she flicked her tongue up the slit of his dick, tasting the salty leak of pre cum glistening in abundance there. Tig stifled a groan as she wrapped her soft lips around his cock and sucked him into her mouth.

Her hands wrapped around the base of him, holding him steady. Teasing him. Tig couldn't contain himself. His hands wrapped around her throat, white knuckling his grip and forcing himself further into her mouth until his ball sack brushed her chin and she gagged, her throat muscles flexing around his girth in a way that made his balls swell and jerk.

The sudden thrust of Tig's hips made Vega's jaw clench and her teeth grated against his dorsal vein, causing the biker to growl, pressing the red head back into the door. His cock left her mouth with an audible pop. He twisted his hips, smacking his prominent erection across her cheeks. Her mouth was still open, lips swollen and slick with spit. She was a vision on her knees there, being chastised like a child. "Watch the teeth." He groaned.

Her lips curled in an innocent smile. Her throat still cut off by his capable hands, she couldn't form a vocal reply. Her smirk was enough to ease Tig off until he was pulling her head forward, forcing himself down her throat once more.

When he hit the back of her throat, he thrust violently, coming in hot spurts down her throat. Vega gagged, taking his seed willingly until he was limp in her mouth.

When he stopped seeing stars, he wrenched her up by a fistful of hair and shoved her back into the door, claiming her mouth. This time, as their tongues mingled, he tasted himself, salty and sharp, on her tongue. He was rough and voracious, desperately trying to meld their bodies together. He wanted to feel every part of her against him.

His hand slipped from her hair, around the back of her neck. He found the flimsy straps of her bikini and pulled, releasing the cups from her breasts once more. They fell limply, hanging from her ribcage. His deft fingers traveled the plane of her shoulder blade and wrapped around the remaining straps until the tiny triangles fell to the floor. He groaned at the sight of her perky, plump peaks, closing the distance between them once more.

"Sarge." She whimpered, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his lower lip. She reached up, grabbing his hand, guiding it down her body, over the grainy pebbles of her nipple, down her taught stomach, and under her mini skirt until her stopped at the mound of her womanhood. She was desperate for his touch, melting for him, her knees buckling with trembling need.

His fingers felt the magma boiling there in her depths and he couldn't hold back anymore. "Strip for me, Star Girl." He reluctantly pushed himself away, taking a few steps back to sit perched on the edge of the motel room's dresser. His jeans hung open at the zippers, revealing his hardening cock as the material clung loosely to his hips.

Slowly, the red headed vixen pushed herself off of the door, entering her modest accommodations confidently while completely topless. She knew his predatory glare was on her as she sauntered across the floor, ending up at the bed. She spun around, facing him. She ran her hands through her hair, not stopping when her fingers loosened the curled ends of her tresses.

No, her hands trailed downward, lingering over her full breasts to twist and tease her piercings, forcing her nipples into a diamond hardness that sent shockwaves straight to her core before continuing until her fingers found the waist of her skirt. They went straight to the fly, unbuttoning the clasp before tugging the zipper. The skirt, now fully open, still clung to the curves of her lush ass and full hips. She exerted some effort to tug the leather mini down her thighs until the material fell around her ankles, pooling over her heeled feet. She stepped out of the material, taking the opportunity to take a seat on the bed behind her. Slowly, she bent at the waist, slipping her heels off, one at a time.

She bit her lip, looking up at Tig through her dark, fluttering lashes. His eyes were boring into hers, watching her every movement, nostrils flaring with anticipation. She relished the idea, wanting to put on more of a show. She winked at her Sergeant before leaning back onto the bed, her ass still right on the edge, her feet planted firmly on the floor.

She began at her stomach, tracing a line from her belly button slowly downward, under her silky panties, now visibly damp. She teased herself at first, tracing over her silk folds, up and down the seam of her bare cunt under the confines of the scarp of fabric between her thighs before pushing her lips apart, grazing her clit, and running downward. She spread her own wetness downwards, over her asshole, then went back to her clit, adding another finger and more pressure. She cried out, closing her eyes. Her entire pelvis lifted off the bed.

Barely containing himself, Tig was across the room, between her legs in moments. He kicked off his riding boots and pulled desperately at his jeans and boxers until he was successfully naked from the waist down. He wasted no time, hooking his thumbs in her panties and ripping them off, swatting her hand as it pet her pussy.

Without warning, he flipped her over onto her stomach. "Climb to the middle. Put the pillows under your hips, sweet heart." He commanded. She did as instructed, her mind still foggy from the afterglow of orgasm. She would do anything he said.

He watched her naked body contort as she scrambled to set herself on the pile of fluffy cushions. He knelt down, picking up the discarded leopard print bikini top off of the ground at his feet. When she had stopped wiggling, he spoke again. "Hold your hands out in front of you, doll."

She hesitated, turning back to look at him, questioning. She finally did as instructed, struggling to hold her upper body up on her elbows while clasping her hands together.

Tig leaned over her naked body, his cock at full attention now, slapping against her firm, lush ass as he did. He used the strings of the bathing suit, wrapping it around her wrists over and over before tying the strings tightly. He pushed himself up on his knees and marveled at what he had done, taking in the breath taking sight of her face leaning precariously on her arms and her ass wriggling out in front of him.

It took him no time at all to decide he had to bury his face between her thighs, lapping at the sopping wetness coating her folds. He had already brought her to the brink, her body being on edge still from the tremble-inducing orgasm she had succumbed to at the bar and teasing strokes of her own fingers moments before.

His tongue worked its expert skills, swirling languidly around her clit, his obtrusive nose nudging at her opening as he did before working his way up, lapping at the tight ring of muscle between her ass cheeks.

She made sinful noises, pushing herself back onto him, not caring about the desperation she was exerting. She never let herself be this unguarded around anyone. "Tig, please." She hissed through bared teeth. She was teetering over the edge. She wanted to feel him inside of her before she burst. "There's protection in the side table."

"Really, sweetheart?" He sighed, exasperated. He leaned back on his calves and withdrew from her sweet center, but did as she asked. He opened the drawer she had indicated. Not only did he find the prophylactics. "That's not all you have in here, beautiful." He smirked, feeling the need to stand now. He reached in the drawer and pulled out Vega's neon pink, bullet-shaped vibrator. "Getting lonely, are we?" He mocked, holding the toy up for inspection.

"A girl has needs, too." She smirked, playfully.

"Do you mind?"

"I could have that anytime." She pouted. "I want _you_ inside of me _now_."

Tig smiled darkly. "Why not have both?"

Vega looked confused for a moment, then realization struck her. "I don't think –"

He cut her off. "Don't you trust me, sweetheart?"

"Yes." She answered, begrudgingly.

"Then let me show you what true pleasure is. Face down, ass up. Relax." He said as he began to take his kutte off.

"Keep it on." She pleaded. "Just unbutton the shirt."

He played out her fantasy, undoing the buttons on his dark shirt, leaving it and his kutte open to reveal his hairy chest. He held the vibrator in one hand and grabbed a condom in the other. He climbed back on the bed, kneeling on his knees behind her ass, staring at the stars adorning her back.

"Here." He reached around her, offering the phallic toy to her lips. "Suck on that for me, babe."

Reluctantly, but without protest, Vega opened her lips, allowing the rubber-coated sex aid to enter her mouth, one of the two holes it hadn't entered before. Using her bound hands, she took the toy from Tig, rolling her tongue around it and jostling it around her warm, wet mouth, licking her flavor off of it, warming the cold rubber, preparing it for herself.

As she worked her mouth over the vibrator, Tig completed the task of ripping open the foil packet and rolling the condom onto himself, now fully erect. It was a snug fit, but he preferred it that way. When he was satisfied with the way the rubber was on, he leaned forward, gripping Vega's hips roughly. He used his thumbs to spread her ass for him before dribbling spit from his lower lip down to the tight rosebud of her anus.

As the spit dripped from one hole to the next, Tig leaned forward and pushing himself into the red head's tight, hot depths in one fluid stroke, hitting her cervix on the first pass.

Vega squealed, her whole body thrusting forward as he filled her, nearly choking on the toy in her mouth.

Tig gave her a moment to adjust to his size before he began working up a rhythm, a much slower, more careful pace than he was used to. "Is it nice and wet for you, doll?"

She moaned an affirmative reply just as he slide his hands up her bare back, over her shoulders, grabbing the vibrator from her mouth.

"You can do better than that now, babe. Spit on it for me, sweetheart." He held it out for her.

The tattooed red head did as she was asked, spitting on the glistening tip of the toy before Tig pulled it away. One hand kneaded the fleshiest part of her rounded ass, his thumb brushing her asshole, smearing his spit as he opened her tighter hole to him.

He didn't stop pushing his cock into her, only multitasked between teasing her asshole and fucking her. "Relax yourself, baby." He coaxed, feeling the tight ring of muscles flex under his touch. He touched the tip of the thinner shaft to the muscle, pushing gently, easing it into her.

She moaned, her head now flush with the mattress. She raised her ass, jutted herself backwards, pushing Tig and the toy into her simultaneously until there was no room left to give, only fullness. Sublime, complete fullness.

Tig stilled himself when he felt her cunt tighten around him, the vibrator pressing into his engorged member through the thin film of membrane separating the two. "You alright there, sweetheart?"

"Don't stop." She moaned, pushing back on him with her hips. "Don't you dare fucking stop."

He chuckled darkly, leaning back on his calves. He pressed her hips downward, driving her into the cushioning of the bed pillows. One hand went to her shoulder, bracing his palm over her star tattoos before he began drilling into her with abandon, bending her to his will and taking from her what he craved. He moved the toy in her ass, one stroke behind his own, sawing her open from both ends.

When he had set a pace for himself, that's when he twisted the end of the sex toy, setting off vibrations that struck a fire within his helpless partner. It enveloped his throbbing cock in the same sensation. The sweet vibrations nudging the sensitive end of his dick, the dangerously tight, wet heat of Vega's cunt tightening around him, strangling him. He felt himself nearing the precipice, teetering dangerously close to the edge.

"Tell me you're close, sweetheart." He begged, slowing his movements slightly, biting his lower lip for self-control.

"So close." She groaned, trying to lean up to look at him over her shoulder.

His hand went from her shoulder to her thick red mane, pulling roughly, contorting her body until she was almost bent at the back. She had to lift her bound hands, awkwardly trying to support her weight as Tig deepened the angle of penetration, pushing both cocks into her at once. "Touch yourself for me, baby." He growled.

She growled, finding it difficult to maneuver her hands without straining his grip on her hair.

Noticing her struggle, Tig let go of her hair, wrapping his arm around her waist, brushing his coarse palm over the barbells straining her tight, sensitive nipples before he pulled her star-covered back into his chest, allowing her to use both hands to massage her wet pussy.

She kneaded herself, drawing furious figure-eights around her engorged clit as it throbbed, ready to set off the liquid fire boiling in her belly. She felt herself getting closer as Tig fucked her, forget the rubber cock in her ass to leave it vibrating inside of her at full speed. He kneading her lush breasts, twisting her nipples as his teeth latched onto the side of her throat, eliciting cries of pleasure and pain.

"Make us come, sweetheart. Come on, Red. Give it all you've got."

It was too much for her. A few more rough passes of her fingers struck the cord. Tig pounded into her, thrusting upward and felt the fluttering of every muscle in her tight core strangling him into imminent conclusion seconds behind her.

* * *

The quiet vibrations aroused her, awakening memories of the night's activities. It was a full minute before she realized it was her cell phone, ringing in the far corner of the room where she had dropped it upon entering the motel.

She glanced over at Tig who was passed out beside her, snoring lightly. He faced the other direction so the only sight she was afforded was of his glorious backside where the covers had shifted to drape over his thighs.

Quietly, delicately, she shifted her weight, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and lifting herself up, careful to not disturb the Son she had slept beside. She grabbed the top sheet, wrapping it around herself and tucking it under her arms before she made it to the phone, still vibrating on the floor, illuminating the wall behind it.

She grabbed the phone, flipping it open before answering it in a hushed tone. "What?...You mean right now?...I'm going to need a few minutes at least…No, I'm still in…I'll be there soon."

She clamped the phone shut, turning to make sure Tig hadn't moved. She wanted to shower, dress, and sneak out without him noticing and she didn't have much time.

She never was good at saying goodbye.

* * *

The slamming on the door roused Tig first. "Housekeeping!"

He sat up straight, running his hand over his scruff with a groan as the early morning light peeked in, burning his sensitive eyes. He barely recognized the room. "Come back in an hour, lady!" He screamed back, smirking to himself when he heard her foreign curses through the door.

The night came rushing back to him full force when he glanced beside him to realize he was alone in bed.

Vega was gone.

The duffle bag on the table by the TV was missing, the clothes he had ripped off of her were no longer tossed carelessly on the floor.

He threw the covers off of himself and ran to the bathroom, finding the shower still damp, the pink smeared white towel she had used on her hair thrown on the toilet. The toiletries were gone, the bag of makeup he had seen on the bathroom counter the night before had been packed and removed. The used condom was still in the trash can where he had left it.

He ran through the room, opening the curtain enough to see that the solid red sports car that had been parked in front of the door was no longer there. Every last trace of the girl had vanished.

She had done it to him again.

Tig turned the shower on so hot the water practically scalded his flesh, giving him a reason to forget the loneliness and the frustration.

His hair still damp, clung to his forehead. He picked his clothes up off the floor, redressing in the previous days attire. His kutte laid lovingly on the hideous chair in the corner. He slipped that on last. He gave the room one last once over before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

His Dyna was a few blocks from here. He vaguely remembered how to get back to "Suck Bang Blow" from here. He loved Reno, but the nights he spent here were usually overshadowed with booze and smoke, so his memories of the town were foggy at best. If nothing else, the walk gave him time to think.

He was relieved to hear his prepaid ring in his jean pocket. He reached in, pulling out the modest flip phone to see Chib's number glowing on the screen. He flipped the phone open and a scrap of paper fell on the sidewalk at his feet. He bent to pick up the trash as he answered the phone. "Yeah?"

"I've been callin' yer sorry arse all mornin', Tiggy! Where the 'ell 'ave ya been?"

"I had a nice night, thanks for asking." He smirked over the phone at the Scot's concern, opening the folded scrap at the same time.

"We've been worried sick 'bout ya! Ye missed quite tha show last night!"

It took him a moment to speak up, his mind now preoccupied with the note. "Yeah? I had quite the show myself. Are you guys still at Rob's?"

"Aye, boyo. We never left. Most of the guys 'aven't even slept yet. Get yer arse back 'ere!"

"Don't move. I'll be there soon." Tig muttered, flipping the phone shut.

He read the note again, making sure he wasn't seeing things.

_Until next time, Sarge._

_Love, *_


	10. Freak Circle

**I'm terribly sorry for how long this has taken to come to fruition. As appealing as this prospect was to me, I really wanted to do it right and it was one of the most intimidating chapters I've tried to tackle yet; my Tig/Happy threesome. **

**I'd been planning to do this all along, Tig and Happy being my number one Sons. They would be the perfect team, both in and out of the bedroom. The possibilities seemed endless with these two. I would like to give a little recognition to Alucard20 for requesting it and recommending some inspirational smut for me to read in the meantime. **

**I know the Jelly Bean isn't mentioned until WAY later in the series, but this happens during season one, just before Bobby is arrested for the Hefner murder. The song I used as inspiration and pulled the lyrics from is 'Heaven's On Fire' by KISS. Only the sleaze bag stripper belongs to me. **

**The following contains graphic material of the smutty variety with a smattering of language and some slash-less threesome goodness. Enjoy!**

* * *

Tig looked around the smoky room with half-hooded eyes. Juice hadn't decided to show up, claiming he was going to watch the prospect and catch up on some work at TM. Everyone knew he hated the Bean. Jax and Clay ducked out early, around eleven, claiming they needed to go home to their old ladies. Bobby was passed out at the bar after his romp with Savannah in the champagne room and the Scot left a few hours ago with a hot, tight little college student because he had a thing for young girls. That left Tig and Happy center stage.

The night was coming to an end as Tig was nearing the end of his brew. Tig recognized her as soon as she hit the stage. She had sucked him off a few times and even let him rim her once before he blew his load in her ass. She hadn't been half bad and was fair with her prices so she quickly became one of Tig's favorites.

Mercedes wasn't exactly what you would expect to see at a strip joint, but the Jelly Bean wasn't exactly the classiest of establishments. She was what Tig liked to refer to as the three AM leftovers. While all the young college girls had come and left early to finish their term papers and try to get some rest after flashing their tits for some extra cash, she and her other over-the-hill coworkers were still working the pole.

Time hadn't exactly been the woman's friend. Her skin was sagging, she had crow's feet and bags under her eyes. Her mouth was framed with marionette lines and her skin was leathery from sun exposure. It was nothing copious amount of makeup couldn't cover, or so the woman seemed to think.

She had love handles hanging over the sides of her g-string and a pouch of stomach fat rolling over the tiny triangle barely covering her mound. Her hair was bleach blonde, frizzy from damage and over teasing with hair spray. Somehow though, none of these things were enough to ward Tig off.

To Tig, pussy was pussy. Whether it be young, hot, and tight or slightly more… experienced and adventurous, he found all pussy to be pink, warm, sunshine-flavored heaven.

Tig knew why he was still here, why he had ended up waiting this long to make a move towards a private room. He wasn't in the mood to coddle or guide some young piece of ass. He wanted someone a little more skilled.

He had waited until he was good and drunk because he found that in these situations, whiskey dick was his friend. It prolonged the experience just enough for him to enjoy it so he could really get his bang for his buck.

On the other hand, Happy had been sitting off to the side, eyeing the girls, chewing on a toothpick as his hand pressed to his groin trying to stifle his massive erection. Happy wasn't one to be frivolous with his spending. When the strippers came his way looking for tips, they were denied.

Hap preferred to hunt at the club house or dive bars where pussy was free and easily accessible. Tig imagined it would be easy for his attractive brother to talk or, more likely than not, scare the panties off of those types of girls.

The song changed along with the atmosphere of the establishment. Mercedes was already topless from the previous song, her breasts heading south. You could still see her tawny colored nipples were flush and erect from the chill in the room.

_I look at you and my blood boils hot,_

_I feel my temperature rise_

_I want it all, give me what you got,_

_there's hunger in your eyes_

She had a lot of muscle strength for someone her age, he would give her that. She could support most of her weight using her calve muscles or her upper arm strength on that pole. She had been doing this most of her adult life. She looked graceful and poised as she worked the pole and danced around the stage. She watched Tig intently as she crawled on the stage towards the bearded Son.

_I'm getting closer, baby hear me breathe_

_You know the way to give me what I need_

_Just let me love you and you'll never leave_

Her high heeled foot was suddenly between his legs as she stepped off the stage and onto his chair. As she dismounted, she ended up only straddling his thighs, sitting herself on his lap as she tossed her hair and presented him with her breasts.

_Feel my heat takin' you higher,_

_burn with me, Heaven's on fire_

_Paint the sky with desire,_

_angel fly, Heaven's on fire_

Tig couldn't help himself. He nestled his face between her tits and she shook them in his face as she ground against the pronounced bulge in his tight, dark jeans. He caught her nipple between his teeth before he licked his way up her neck only to nip her earlobe with his teeth as well.

Mercedes leaned back as Tig wrapped his arms around her back and supported her. Not one of the handful of on-lookers seemed to notice that the show on stage had moved to one of the patron's chairs and Tig almost forgot where he was until the woman on his lap sat up and bit her lower lip, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She leaned in closer and purred in his ear, "Your friend's watching us."

"Let him watch." Tig chuckled, leaning back enough to look his brother in the eye. "Unless he wants to join?"

Happy grimaced. "I don't pay for pussy."

Tig looked back at Mercedes, seeking out some reservations or doubts. He found none in her eager, willing face. "This one's on me."

Mercedes licked her lips, eyes flitting between the two leather-clad men. She lifted herself off of Tig's lap, taking him by the hand. Hap stood up behind the pair. "Then let's go somewhere a little more private." She offered, leading them out of the main stage room and off towards the private rooms.

Many of the rooms had fuzzy dice hanging from the door knobs until they rounded the corner and found a few empty rooms on the corridor. Mercedes opened one door, flicked on the light, and let the two men follow her in.

The entire room was lush royal blue and antique silver. Beside the door sat a rather large side table with a mirrored top. There was a stripper pole directly in the center of the floor and a cushy blue couch off to the side, parallel to the door. Across from the loveseat sat an ornate silver leaf and blue crushed velvet chair. It was decorative and delicate with no arm rests, only a back. Immediately, Happy leaned against the door as soon as it shut while Tig dug in his pocket for his wallet.

Tig had done this enough times to know that he needed to pay the girl upfront, but he wasn't really sure how to bring up…"activities" with his Tacoma charter companion. To be honest, the Tacoma killer sometimes even scared Tig who, since he was being honest, wasn't very sane himself. Gratefully, the stripper brought it up first.

"Both of you, together, is gonna be more than usual." She said, looking at Tig.

"How much more we talkin', baby?"

"Two hundred. Three for DP."

"Oh, come on, sweetheart! That's triple what you usually charge me!" Tig protested. His hand went for her hip and pulled her towards him. "You know you'll enjoy it." He groaned in her ear, his hand covering the expanse of her ass cheek.

She giggled, swatting his shoulder and pulling away. "Fine. Two fifty."

Tig nodded triumphantly, counting out the bills and handing them to the blonde, folded in half between two fingers. She nodded her accordance as she counted the bills out. She set the cash in the drawer of the side table by the door and listed out her rules. "No holes are off limits. If you're gonna try any weird shit, ask first. Touching, kissing's fine. You can be rough, but do not leave any marks." Before she shut the drawer, she pulled out a box of Trojans and a bottle of KY jelly. She directed her glance to Happy since he was the newbie in the scenario. "Okay, darlin'?"

The bald Son nodded once. "Understood."

"Ok, good." Mercedes smiled. She slipped off her g-string, laying it on the top of the side table, then turned to Tig. The carpet definitely did not match the drapes, as if he dark roots didn't give that away. Her pubis was trimmed into a neat triangle and bare on the sides so nothing hung out of her g-string. She stood there, fully naked, with a confidence many woman would envy. "Where do you want me?"

Tig began stripping, kutte first. He hung his leather on a hook behind the door. "You wanna take Mercedes for a ride first, brother?" Tig asked, hopefully. He figured Happy for the take charge type and Tig had a thing for voyeurism anyway. To his delight, his brother nodded and took his kutte off as well.

Tig stripped to his boxers and took a seat on the miniature couch. His limbs were sprawled out but his right hand rested on his waistband as he watched Happy strip. When Mercedes tried to help, Hap swatted her hand away. Tig noticed the tension between the two after Happy's show of dominance and tried to smooth things over. "Touch yourself, doll."

The blonde looked up at Tig and moaned at his words. She backed up against the wall and spread her thighs, allowing her fingers just enough room to trace her juicy seam. After a moment of teasing, her index finger slipped between her swollen lips and grazed her clit and she hummed her own approval.

Happy got down to his boxers and wife beater as he decided how he wanted to do this. He stepped in front of the armless chair and ripped his boxers off before taking a seat, his erection standing proudly in his lap. "Come 'ere." He nodded, giving the girl permission to approach him, now.

Mercedes stopped teasing herself. She grabbed a Trojan from the pack and sauntered over to Happy, her full hips swaying as she walked. With practiced ease, she ripped the foil packet open and pulled out the rubber. She watched Happy, seeking permission. He nodded his head once.

She knelt between his knees, her hands on his thighs. She took the tip of his cock into her full lips and took the full length of him into her throat, bobbing her head. His hand tangled in her hair, right at the nape of her neck, and he pulled her up with a growl, jerking his hips when her lips circled the head of his dick again in a punishing motion.

She realized then that he was more hell bent on control and wasn't allowing her to have that sort of power over him. In an apologetic manner, the stripper opened her mouth and flattened her tongue before licking his shaft from bottom to top. She felt the vein underneath his cock twitch and she moaned approvingly. Apology accepted.

She took the rubber and held the tip over his dick, rolling the condom down over his length. She lifted herself up and began to straddle his hips when Tig stopped her. "Nuh uh, darlin'. Face me."

Tig's boxers were around his knees now and he was fondling his ball sack in one hand, the other was gently stroking his shaft. Mercedes spun around, eyeing him approvingly before she backed up, her thighs on either side of Hap's. She eased herself down. When she was nearly sitting on Happy's lap, the Tacoma killer grabbed her hips in both hands and pulled her down until her wet cunt swallowed his hard cock to the hilt, jabbing her cervix abusively.

The whore practically screamed while Happy grunted his approval. She waited a beat before she began rolling her hips in painfully slow circles. It wasn't long before Happy was lifting and guiding her hips at a more appropriate pace, lifting his own hips to meet hers as she bounced on his cock.

Tig tried to keep up with his hands; slow circles as Mercedes moved, violent tugs when Happy regained control.

The blonde was a practiced whore, rubbing against her clit with her full hand to give Tig a good show. Her moves were skilled and she knew how to maximize the full experience; vocal styling included. She moaned and cried out like a porn star and was beginning to feel the brunt of Happy's frustrations because of it. If there was one thing he hated more than losing control, it was bitches being too theatrical in bed. He was brutalizing her, pounding into her harder with every scream.

"Would you shut her up?" Happy growled, looking at Tig. He finally had had enough.

Drawn from the brink of self-pleasure, Tig sighed and stood up, pulling his hands away from playing with himself long enough to kick his boxers off the rest of the way and cross the room until he was standing in front of Mercedes.

He smoothed her hair, lovingly, brushing it out of her face and bringing it to the back of her neck neatly. His thumb touched her cheek as he guided her open mouth around his engorged cock. He groaned, feeling himself hit the back of her throat when Happy lifted his hips. As Hap pulled the stripper down onto him, she lost her hold on Tig's dick. Happy was controlling the pace and it was driving Tig insane. Every time her tongue fluttered and rolled his tip, her mouth was being pulled away from him.

The next time his dick hit her gag reflex and she was forced to swallow around him only to be pulled away, Tig lost it. His knees buckled and he caught her waist and lifted her up, dragging her up off of Happy's lap. "I'm sorry, brother. I can't. I just can't." He muttered and let her down, allowing her to stand in the middle of the floor on her own for a moment as he walked to the side table to grab himself a Trojan. He tossed Happy the bottle of KY and strode across the room again.

The Sergeant at Arms collapsed back on the loveseat, positioning his thighs over the arm of the seat. Without question, Mercedes walked over and lifted herself to straddle his thighs. She took the condom out of his hand and used the same tenderness to apply the rubber to Tig's aching member as she had with Happy's impressive length. When the latex was in place, she settled herself before easing herself onto Tig's cock.

He didn't force her, he just settled his large hands on her sides and helped keep her steady. She leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders for added balance and rode him. They kept this pace for a moment… slow circles and gentle, deep thrusts, a reprieve from Happy's brutal fucking.

"Come on, Hap." Tig encouraged, eager to feel the fullness of double penetration himself. He had only experienced it a handful of times, but he knew it would be well worth the wait.

Silently, stealthily, Happy came up behind the pair as they fucked on the furniture. The cap on the lube made a loud pop before the viscous liquid made its way down the crack of Mercedes's ass and dripped onto Tig's sack.

The sergeant's finger crept, dipping into the stripper's ass and pressing into the ring of muscle nestled just above where his own cock was settled. "More." He mumbled, pushing his digit deeper, stretching her in preparation to take his brother's wide girth. He felt more lube grease his hand as he pumped his finger in and out of the blonde's tight ass. When he circled his index, he could feel his hand massaging his own cock as the whore rode him.

Finally, he brought his hand around, flicking his lubed finger along her swollen, aching clit. His clean hand wound in her hair, pulling her down to kiss him. At this angle, her ass was as accessible as possible and Happy maneuvered around Trager's legs.

Happy glided a KY-coated hand over his latex-covered shaft before nudging his cock against her tight little rosebud. All the Son had to do was press forward and her ass swallowed the head of his cock. He groaned at the impossible tightness, only wanting to feel more of the tight heat envelope him.

Tig lifted his hips a bit and Hap leaned forward and all of a sudden she was full, both of her tightest, most private holes filled to the brim with thick, throbbing cocks. Tig felt every muscle contract as his brother's cock slipped in over his own, one thin membrane separating them. Mercedes didn't move, her breathing became controlled and her eyes were clamping shut as her head hung just over Tig's. Neither Son so much as breathed, allowing the blonde to adjust to the incredible fullness.

When her breathing settled, Happy was the first to move, pulling out, only slightly, just to push the stripper back onto Tig. His hands rested on her hips and helped to guide her movements. Pulling her towards him, pushing her down onto Trager.

Tig caught on quickly, letting the girl slide down his cock before he pushed her up on his thighs and back onto Happy. In this way they shared her, sawing her in half from both ends in perfect time.

Tig resumed the crazy circles and figure eights he performed on her slick, engorged bundle of nerves. He pinched it between two fingers, tugging slightly before rubbing it again, frantically at first, then painfully slow. He never settled on a rhythm, the movements random and unplanned, making her dizzy with need.

The two Sons had worked themselves up to a good pace, sharing the blonde like a tantalizing secret. The girl had even become comfortable enough to hold herself up on Tig's chest, deepening both angles of penetration and allowing for an even tighter fit for all parties involved.

Tig could feel his balls tightening with every thrust. His fingers zoned in on Mercedes's clit harder, urging her to come. He wanted her to choke his cock and milk him dry. A few frenzied flicks to her clit and he got his wish. She crashed down on his hips, screaming. Every muscle inside her pussy contracted and he felt his eyes roll back in his head and his come gushed out, getting clogged in the reservoir tip.

During their joint climax, Happy pushed through, using the choking contractions of the stripper's muscles to his advantage. He kept pumping into her, massaging Tig's softening dick as he did. Soon, the sergeant lowered his hips, pulling his softened member from Mercedes's confines, watching over the stripper's shoulder as his brother continued to fuck her ass as she lay on top of him.

After she had recovered from her intense orgasm, Mercedes began pushing back on Happy's cock, tightening her muscles around him with every thrust. She was sitting up almost completely now.

Tig resumed his frenzied flicks on the blonde's throbbing clit. It wasn't long before she was in the throes of another breath-takingly intense orgasm, and this time she took Happy down with her.

The blonde collapsed on Tig's chest, her body shuddering from the intensity of her multiple orgasms. The Tacoma killer groaned in finality, jutting his hips out and pushing into Mercedes ass as deep as she could take him as he filled his own rubber.

Two hundred and fifty dollars well spent.


	11. Welcome Home Dinner

**Sincere apologies for this being so late. I had a hard time getting into the fandom after the series finale and severe writers block that kept me away. **

**Special thanks to DeDe324 for getting her butt in gear and inspiring me to do the same. **

**The following covers season two, episode two after Bobby comes home from jail and they throw him a raunchy welcome home party at the club house. I hope you all enjoy! **

* * *

It really felt like a club party with Bobby back home. The club secretary was on the pool table, face deep in pussy with a pair of thighs muffling his ears. God bless him, he hadn't been in jail long, but Tig understood the needs that arose in men like them after going without a good fuck for even a few days.

Speaking of, the need had been rising in him since he'd gotten up this morning. Knowing that Bobby was coming home was a plus. Welcome home parties were almost equal in reward to patch over parties, over flowing with booze and hot wet pussy galore.

His day had been stressful. Seeing Op in so much pain, helping him to grieve and get out his frustrations over Donna's death had done a number on his psyche. They killed the Spic he and Clay had framed for Donna's murder. It was for Opie's own good. The club's own good. It still had hit Tig hard. He knew he was at fault for his brother's tribulations and keeping this kind of secret was weighing heavily upon him. Burying his cock in a tight cunt would help take his mind off of things for even a little while.

He took a long draw from his cigarette before snuffing the butt on the ashtray to his left and blew out a long billow of smoke, plumes rising around his face in swirling tendrils. He downed the shot of whiskey that had been in his other hand and let the liquid burn away his sorrows before spinning from the bar to weigh out his options. The room was full of sweet butts and hang around's. He just had to pick his poison.

A veritable smorgasbord of women lay at his feet. He may not be a looker, but the kutte was currency enough. In this world, he could snap his fingers and have any woman he wanted. Picking which one of these lucky ladies would be swallowing his dick tonight while being as shit-faced drunk as he was wouldn't be the most difficult task he'd conquered all day.

He wanted something new. There was nothing more exciting than being balls deep in a new cunt. No recyclables for him tonight. His vision blurred, he scanned the room. Four feet to his left. Long blonde hair, decent rack, dressed like a street walker on steroids. She was laughing hysterically at something her friend had said as if she was trying to ignore the fact that he had spotted her. He didn't think he had seen her in the club before, but he could be wrong. He didn't usually look at girl's faces.

He stood and took a moment to study her more, if only to steady his dizziness before approaching her. She had on a short blue shirt, a barely there top, covering her tits and baring every other drop of skin. Black leather boots with tall heels led up to long, muscular legs covered in fishnet stockings. The holes ripped in the hosiery suggested she had already spent plenty of time on her knees. She seemed to have teased her hair and wore enough makeup to be a contestant on RuPaul's show. He reminded himself that he wasn't choosing her because she was a looker. He chose her because she was the closest - the most convenient.

As he approached, a stagger in his cool, languid walk, she caught sight of him and spun around, showing Tig her barely covered ass and her thick, muscular thighs. He could bounce a quarter off of that ass and the thought of tasting it made his mouth water. He continued his pursuit.

He didn't have to use some quick pickup line or pay her empty compliments. He said the first thing that came to mind. "Wanna let me take a shot off that ass, doll?"

She shot him a look over her shoulder but her friend shoved her forward, egging her on. The girl stumbled a bit, almost knocking Tig off kilter in the process. Tig caught her, steadying himself as well and the girl frowned. "Sorry."

"No harm done." He chuckled. "Yet."

The girl's friend laughed. "I'm gonna go grab another drink." She said, excusing herself before walking off.

"She's not coming back." The blonde stammered, watching her friend walk off longingly.

"You wanted her to join?" Tig quipped, raising a brow at her.

"Someone's overly confident." She seethed sarcasm as she took another sip of her drink before sitting the empty glass down. Her body told a different story. She opened her stance, leaning into him, slightly.

"Comes with the territory, doll." He shrugged. "So are you gonna let me fuck you tonight or am I gonna have to move on to the next willing whore?"

She smirked, looking down at his chest, glimpsing at the patch on his right side. "I wouldn't want to disappoint the chapter's Sergeant at Arms, now would I?"

"No, doll. I suppose not." He scoffed, running a hand down his face.

"So, do you wanna go to the back, or -"

"Not exactly what I had in mind." He shrugged. "I was hoping you would climb up on the bar for me."

Her eyes glistened, wide like doe's eyes. "Here, in front of everyone?"

"You wouldn't be the first." He mused, glancing around the room. Juice had some thick, curvy, bottle blonde riding his cock on the leather chair not three yards away from them. Beside him was Half-Sack and some other hang around getting their dick's sucked on the matching leather sofa. Some brunette with saggy tits was working the pole, already down to just a g-string that did little to hide her ample curves and now Bobby was still on his knees, licking the creme filling out of three fat bitches, simultaneously. The room smelled of booze, smoke, and sex. Frankly, they were getting more attention for NOT being naked right now. "You're not scared, are you?"

The blonde shot him a Cheshire grin. "Show me what you want me to do."

Tig couldn't help but cackle. "Knees on the stool, hands on the bar." He nodded to the open seat at the bar just behind them and helped the girl position herself, climbing onto the stool with her heels still on, bending her over so her ass poked out just right and her back arched. When she was contorted perfectly on the seat, he stood back to admire her for just a moment. "Don't move." He stood behind her and grabbed the tab of the zipper on her skirt, ever so slowly ripping it down. He felt her body tense for a moment. "Just a minor adjustment, doll." She was wearing a g-string herself. Black, like the rest of her clothing, sans the skirt which he was now pushing down to her knees, baring her plump ass, marked ever so slightly by the fishnets. He smoothed his hands up her outer thighs flexing his thumbs over her cheeks to watch the flesh dimple beneath his touch.

He motioned to the bar tender with one hand and sank to his knees behind the blonde, his hands digging into her his to stabilize himself through a bout of dizziness.

The man behind the bar grabbed a top shelf bottle of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel and leaned down beside the girl. "It'll feel weird at first." He warned. For a moment, the girl was confused. She had agreed to this thinking Tig was going to pound into her from behind but then the bar keep took the fine whiskey and leaned over her.

The first few drops made her jump, splashing over her creamy flesh and soaking her hose and panties before the flow of liquid thickened, slipping between her spread cheeks, down the crack of her ass and into Tig's awaiting mouth. He hadn't been kidding when he had told her that he wanted to take a shot off of her ass.

The feeling was strange; warm liquid rolling over her skin in amber waves, leaving a tingle in it's wake, bordering on burning pain. The bar tender stopped pouring the whiskey and Tig licked her backside, cleaning the remaining liquor from between the rounded halves of her ass the best he could. He tugged the string of her panties with his teeth, squeezing some of the liquid from the soaked cotton. His teeth grazed over her skin, a stinging bite that left another hole in her fishnets. The Sergeant centered his tongue along the tight little rosebud nestled between her ass cheeks, flicking it playfully. It flexed protectively beneath his touch. His tongue smoothed over her flesh soothingly as he began to stand behind her.

She felt leather flush against her back. His hands stroked her hair, moving it to her other shoulder. He placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in, his breath hot on her cheek. "The next time I do that, I want your lips around my cock, sweetheart." He growled, nipping her cheek.

She shivered, melting against him at those filthy words. "How?"

"I'll show you." A hint of a smile in his voice. His hands traipsed over her shoulders, down her chest. His thumb and forefinger locked on the tie between her breasts and tugged, pulling the crop top open. The shirt fell off her shoulders and she was kneeling on the stool, in a crowded room, in barely-there panties and a modest black push-up bra.

He turned beside her, his back to the bar, his hands on either side of his hips, gripping the wood. He lifted himself up in a smooth jumping motion and wound up on top of the bar. He spun his legs around so he was fully seated on the smooth top, legs and all. The bar tender gave him a cautious glance, but didn't say anything as the biker lay down on the bar and patted his chest. "Sit right here, darlin'."

The blonde's eyes were like saucers, contemplating if she was really gonna go that far for this Son she had only just met. Before she could fully make up her mind, the dark man held out his hand for her. A moment's hesitation, then the moment was over and she was taking his hand. She was still perched on the stool, so she only had to make a few inches journey to the hard, polished wood precipice. She made the awkward stretch from the bar stool to the bar itself, kneeling on her knees beside Tig.

One hand still laced with his, she leaned back and pulled her skirt the rest of the way off until it followed her blouse in a pile on the sticky floor. Before she lost the nerve, she kicked up a knee, straddling his waist on the open bar. The Son grabbed her other hand, clutching both tight on his chest. "No, darlin'. The other way." He spun his finger, emphasizing the point he was trying to make.

In-dignifying as it was, she obliged, awkwardly re-positioning herself. Facing the other direction, she could get a better view of the scene casting all around her. Naked women, one to two for every lap. They were either being pounded into viciously or they were on their knees for their respective Sons. No shame, no guilt. Just graphic, glorious sex in every corner of the room. In fact, she was the only one still partially clothed. The realization took away some of the tension and left her feeling an odd sense of calm. Don't over think it, just do.

No one was even paying attention to her as she lay flat on Tig Trager's stomach, her tits just above his groin and her feet landing on either side of his face.

Ever the impatient one, Tig rocked his hips upward. "It isn't gonna take it's self out, sweetheart."

She was almost insulted for a moment, then she remembered - don't think. Do.

She propped herself up on her arms, using her hands to undo his belt carefully, teasingly. Task one accomplished, she went for his jeans, opening the button before tugging the zipper down. One more layer down, she was inside his jeans to tug the flap on his boxers open and she reached inside to find his impressive length, hard, throbbing and ready.

A teasing lick at first, tasting him, the very tip of her tongue along the slit in the head of his cock. She greedily cleaned up the singular bead of precome from his dick. His hips jerked and he groaned as her tongue traced along his velvety flesh before she took the tip of his cock into her full lips and took the full length of him into her throat, bobbing her head. His hand tangled in her hair, right at the nape of her neck, using it like a rein, hoisting her back and forcing her to bob her head for him.

Just as she had taken him into her mouth, the warm, burning liquid splashed over her ass again. His hands gripped her, spreading her ass apart, allowing the liquor to begin spilling between the lush expanse of flesh, dripping over her pert asshole and through her sopping pussy lips until it met Tig's greedy mouth with a slurping sound. The shock of the liquid alone made her gasp, almost choking on the Son's cock before she gained composure. She had barely recovered when Tig's tongue shot out, lapping at her cunt with such ferocity that she felt every slip against her throbbing clit through her soaking wet panties.

The blonde moaned approvingly and opened her mouth wider for the Sergeant. She flattened her tongue before licking his shaft from bottom to top. She felt the vein underneath his cock twitch and she moaned approvingly before swallowing him whole again. His hips jerked again, thrusting himself against the back of her throat as her muscles flexed and her tongue swirled.

The whiskey returned. With the shock of that sensation beginning to subside, Tig took the opportunity to shock her again. His thick fingers tangled in her fishnets until they met a satisfying rip, right between her legs. With those out of the way, Tig hooked a finger under her g-string and pulled the piece of fabric away, baring her sensitive center to his waiting mouth.

He didn't tease this time. He had to bury his face between her thighs, lapping at the sopping wetness coating her folds, reveling in the taste: musky, heady, and sharp - like the liquor. He had already brought her to the brink, her body being on edge from the tension in the room - from the anticipation. It was all amplified by the exhibitionism. There was something utterly hot and sinful about doing this in public. It was something she'd never done.

She moaned, her mouth still around his cock. The vibrations made his legs jerked and he gave her like treatment, humming his pleasure against her until she was jutting her hips, thrusting her dripping cunt into his mouth. His lips locked on her clit and sucked hard and she whimpered, drawing out the sounds as she pulled away from his shaft with her lips locked in place like a vice.

His tongue worked its expert skills, swirling languidly around her clit, his nose nudging at her tight opening as he did. He twisted his tongue around the quivering hole, teasingly pushing it in with controlled flicks and she groaned, pushing herself back onto his protruding tongue.

She made sinful noises. She didn't care about the desperation she was exerting. She was solely focused on pleasure.

The last shot poured directly over her puckered hole, a clean hit with her ass completely spread. The disturbance made her whole body jerk, her toes pointing straight, lifting her off the bar a bit and Tig followed close behind, as soon as he'd drained the last few drops of Jack Daniel's. His lips vacuum sealed around her clit as she bucked and groaned above him. She was coming harder than she ever had. The man didn't even know her name, but he was drawing out her orgasm like he knew exactly what nerve to hit, how to play her body like a piano concertist.

She found it hard to focus, her blow job skills wavering as the second orgasm hit her. Every plane of her body, every nerve tingled, tensing, locking. Then it released and she felt light and weightless. Without thinking, her head fell forward, deep throating Tig's cock like before, ending in a loud groan as his seed exploded on her tongue, overwhelming her senses once again. This time, her mind was foggy, her whole body depleted of sense and reason. She lapped at the come until his sizable length stopped twitching in pleasure and swallowed the load. Her head lulled to the side and she just laid there, limp and useless - much like Tig was now.

The biker chuckled lazily. "Fuckin' beautiful, sweetheart." He hummed. "Just give me a minute." He mused, his voice lazy, groggy even.

Mere moments apart, the pair fell asleep, lying on the bar, completely sated.


	12. With An Ex

**Skipping forward to season 4, this is inspired by the episode "With An X". I wanted to explore more of Tig's past. It's hard to picture Tig with a wife and children and I aimed to delve deeper into that idea. **

**In my version, Dawn is the older sibling. Tig hasn't gotten married yet. He also has yet to have Fawn.**

**I'm not entirely sure anyone is still around in this fandom since the finale. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy! **

* * *

_1991_

It was dark by the time he arrived at the house and he knew already that he had fucked up. The lights were all out, save for the one in the kitchen. He pulled up behind the raggedy Toyota Camry in the drive and parked his Dyna before kicking his leg over and stretching from his hour-long drive. He casually noticed that the balloons on the mailbox were beginning to deflate as he reached into his saddlebag and picked up the neatly wrapped box in pink paper with the purple bow. He had no idea what Gemma had bought, but she had wrapped it neatly enough to tell that Tig had had no part in the gift itself.

He carried the box with him past the kitchen window to enter through the back per usual. He didn't bother knocking. He knew the door would be open. He didn't even have to enter the room to know that she would be sitting there, waiting for him.

"You're late." She growled. She was perched at the kitchen table, as expected, drinking coffee from a brown mug and smoking, plumes of smoke floating from her mouth like a chimney. She had her thin, dark, bottle-black hair tied high on her head and was wearing a thick, red robe that came down to her mid-thighs. Tig could see a trace of her clavicles and a sliver of bared skin underneath her robe. She wasn't wearing much, if anything, underneath. Her makeup was smearing, almost as if she had been crying. Tig knew better. This bitch hadn't had a heart in some years and she'd shed her final tears for him long ago.

"Nice to see you too, sweetheart." Tig said, rolling his eyes. He hadn't planned on starting a fight, but was prepared for one if need be. "Where's Dawn?"

"She went to bed two hours ago. Do you even know what time it is?"

"Business ran late." He shrugged, cooly. His kutte shifted awkwardly, riding up on his shoulders as he did so. He shook the box in his hand. "I'll put this by her bed and be out, then."

"Do whatever you want, Alex. You always do." She huffed, rolling her eyes before snuffing out her cigarette.

"Fucking gash…" He muttered, already heading past his ex and down the hallway.

It had been over a year since he had lived in this house but he walked straight up to his daughter's door and opened it as quietly as possible. As her mother promised, she was passed out, wrapped in pink covers and cushioned by lacey pillows and teddy bears.

The dim light from the hallway created a beam of light over the girl's face and Tig did his best to slip in quietly, treading lightly in his booted feet. He set the package down on her night stand and kneeled beside the little girl. Only the right side of her face was susceptible to his view, but he knew she was gorgeous.

Perfect little Dawn. He stroked the light brown hair from the side of her face. The strands were so soft and thin. "Aw, Dawny…Daddy's sorry, sweetheart." He whispered. His lips brushed her cheek and her breathing fluctuated, but she didn't wake. Before she could arise, Tig reluctantly left her side, closing the door quietly behind him.

"She cried herself to sleep on her fourth birthday. All she wanted was her daddy." She was leaning in the doorway, watching him from down the hall.

"I did what I could, Colleen." He grumbled. His pace quickened and he pushed past his ex-old lady with a brush of his arm.

"And surprise, surprise. It was never good enough. God forbid we ever depend on Alex Trager. Son until we die, right _Tig_?" She seethed his nickname as though it was poison.

"Quiet!" He hissed. The back of his hand struck her cheek before he could control himself and her entire body buckled, crumbling against the refrigerator. "Fucking hell, Colleen. I didn't want to do this tonight."

"And you think I do?" She was on the verge of tears. "I never would have asked for this life for us."

"_This life_? This life pays for this house, sweetheart. I pay your bills. That little girl never wants for anything. She'll be cared for her whole life, no matter what. The best thing you ever did was get knocked up by me." He knew it was a lie, but he was wallowing in his own guilt.

"That's how you see this arrangement? That little girl never sees her father, Alex. Since you left, she's lucky if she sees you once a month. Before that? Once or twice a week, at best. That's no life. I may as well be a single mother."

"I don't have time for this, Colleen." He huffed.

"You don't have time for anything." Colleen muttered. "Our daughter has a huge hole in life that only a father can fill."

He closed in on her and she backed into the cabinets to escape, ironically leaving herself cornered. "We know I'm a shit dad. Is that all this is about, Colleen?" He growled. His hand traipsed up her thigh, under her robe to caress her hot core.

Her eyes widened, but she stood her ground, pressing her stomach into Tig's growing erection. "Fights like these always got you hot, huh _Tiggy_?" She purred his name, eliciting a groan from him. "This is how we got here in the first place. A one night stand turned into eighteen years in purgatory with a man I despise."

It was true. They had had a sordid past. Tig had met Colleen at a biker bar here in Fresno where she was playing pool with a few friends. He had made a joke about how she could work a stick and had smacked her ass. Without missing a beat, she spun around, grabbing his cock in a death grip until his eyes began to water.

"_You couldn't handle how I 'work a stick'."_ She countered, twisting her wrist for good measure before releasing him to rejoin his cackling friends. He laughed it off, muttering something about how he was gonna marry that girl one day.

Later that evening, he found her again, bringing her a drink and apologizing for his behavior. She took it graciously and asked if he and his "stick" had recovered. He offered to show her and she reluctantly accepted, accompanying him in the women's restroom.

Three months later, she made a trip to San Joaquin County to tell him she was pregnant. He had been in the shop, under a car, and nearly hit his head trying to get out. _"How much do you need?" He asked. _

"_I'm sorry?" _

"_To take care of it. How much would you need?" _

"_I'm not – I could never… I'm keeping it, Alex. With or without you." _

'With' him seemed to be the most obvious option. All his life, Tig never saw himself with an old lady. He could never picture his life with kids. He loved kids, sure. They just weren't for him.

In a matter of moments, he was pegged with both.

He didn't make it to appointments or help put together a nursery, but he made sure Gemma had the money to buy all the things Colleen might need. He'd stop by every so often to check on her pregnancy, but wasn't invested. No, it didn't feel real until he got the call.

By the time he'd made it to the hospital, Colleen was in her own room. The baby in a cart by the bed. He took one look at the thick head of light brown hair and the largest gray eyes he'd ever seen, nestled by rosy, cherub cheeks.

"_Dawn._" Colleen whispered. "_I named her Dawn._"

He held his daughter for the first time and his heart instantly broke for her.

Tig spent the next two years doing his best to be a father and – well, he wasn't quite sure how to describe his relationship with Colleen. They were civil, sometimes. Most of the time, though, they fought and they fucked. He spent as much time as he could in Fresno with his daughter, sent money when he couldn't spare the time.

As with most long distance "relationships", jealousy reared its ugly head. Every time he came to Fresno, it was as if Colleen could smell the pussy on him. She made snide remarks, resulting in fights that led to more sex.

By the time Dawn was three, Tig could sense her resentment. Sure, she ran to him like she always had. She regarded Tig as a hero in her life, like the kutte was a red and blue cape instead of the very reason he was never around. When she learned to speak, she asked questions more fluidly.

"_Where were you daddy?"_

"_I missed you, daddy." _

"_When are you gonna come home to mommy and me?" _

That's when the visits turned from every other week to every two weeks. From biweekly, to once a month. From once a month, to holidays. Now he couldn't even make it to his daughter's birthday party.

His fingers waivered, slipping underneath her panties to smooth over the light hair, the burning flesh. Her eyes were dark with want, tempting him to go further, to cross that threshold they always seemed to be teetering on.

He didn't. He couldn't. His fingers pulled away and he took a full step back, running his hand over his face. His nostrils flared as they encountered her scent, but he kept his distance.

"Get out." Colleen whispered. She cleared her throat, getting her voice back. "Get out of my house." It sounded more like a reflex than it had a command.

Tig chuckled to himself, not budging an inch. He felt as though walking away solidified their demise and he wasn't sure if he could say goodbye just yet. There was always going to be something between them. Always that unparalleled connection - their child. They would always share Dawn.

He crossed the imaginary barrier, denying the miniscule voice in his head telling him to turn back. He pressed against Colleen with all of his weight, shoving her into the countertop before silencing her rage with an all-consuming kiss.

She groaned against him, more from discomfort than pleasure. The counter was digging into her back and she pressed her hands on his shoulders, but she wasn't strong enough to move his weight. She couldn't get away.

His mouth never left hers, biting her lip if she tried to pull away. Tig hoisted his ex up onto the counter top with little effort, slamming her head back into the cabinets holding the plates and bowls. The force made a loud clang, yet another element to the cacophony surrounding the couple in the commonly quiet house. Tig's hand encased the woman's throat, pinning her still as his other hand worked on the sash on her short, fluffy robe. It was tied hastily, and came apart almost as easily has Colleen had.

Frustration. Desperation. Aggression. Everything Tig knew best. That's what tonight came down to.

Colleen was completely naked under that frumpy, ugly robe save for some black cotton panties that came up to her navel. He leaned back, appraising her as she sat there, panting, still falling victim to his grip on her throat. Her body had changed since having his kid. He knew that. Her tits were larger, hanging heavier on her chest, swaying to the sides more than before. Her nipples got wider and darker and, as a result, more responsive. She had stretch marks and her skin lost its elasticity in the middle, giving her love handles. Her cunt suffered the most. The muscles still held their own, but Tig noticed the miniscule difference when his cock was in her.

As her body had aged, her whole demeanor changed along with it. She was much more uptight and controlling than Tig had remembered. That was part of the reason he had pulled away after the birth of their daughter. The other being that he wasn't cut out to be a father, wasn't prepared for a relationship with a woman he barely knew. This wasn't the life Tig had planned. He wasn't meant to be tied down.

Tig still had admiration for Colleen. When drunk or desperate, he would even admit that he loved her, as much as a man like him could love someone.

That's how things had gotten to this point. His mind reeled, but he quieted it by planting another kiss to Colleen's pouting lips. She accepted him this time and he fed off of her neediness. Being a single mother was hard and he could tell this was an act of desperation more than it was a rekindling of their fraught and convoluted relationship.

Feeling satisfied that she wouldn't be fleeing, he finally moved his hand from the column of her throat, palming both of her breasts in his hands, tweaking her sensitive nipples to rough points until she squirmed and moaned against him as his lips explored her neck, teeth grazing her collar bone.

Her thighs spread, skin flushed, she panted. She cried his name in gasped whispers, egging him on. "Alex, please." She grasped at his jeans, tugging at his heavy belt buckle to fumble with his clothes.

His name was foreign to him now. Everything in his life had become about "Tig". His whole life revolved around the club persona. Usually, he wouldn't tolerate any using his given name as it was a part of him he had considered dead for some time. From her, it felt natural. She met him one night and didn't even learn his name. She saw the kutte and was apprehensive. After she found out she was knocked up, she had to search public records on the club to find him. She learned his name. Now that they shared a child, now that she was the only woman he had ever had the heart to "live with", she knew a part of him that most didn't which made him feel violated and insecure – things Tig wanted no part of.

With a growl, he shoved her back until she had to hold herself up on the palms of her hands. He gripped his cock at the base with one hand and held the soaked crotch of her panties to the side with the other. He started off slow, teasingly slipping the head of his engorged cock through her cunt, spreading her juices up to her clit with enough pressure to draw a curse from her lips as her hips rocked up to meet his welcome touch.

His fingers still tangled in her cotton panties, he pressed his palm firmly against her pelvic bone to press her back down on the formica counter top. Tig directed himself back down to her entrance and released the grip on his length, slamming into her full force before catching himself on the cabinet behind her head with his free hand.

"Oh god!" She gasped, a little too loudly. She caught herself when it was too late.

The biker braced his arm over her open mouth, offering her something to bare down on as he pumped in and out of her, demanding every inch of reserve she had left in her body. With each thrust, he was breaking another piece of the barrier they had built over the past few months. He could feel it crumbling beneath him and it was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. His cock jumped, throbbing inside of her slick, muscular walls. It felt like home to him which only nerved him further.

He was brutal and dominating, pushing into her with force and ferocity. She began to kegel around him, her muscles strangling his thick member. He pressed harder with his arm, bracing all his upper body strength against her mouth as her teeth cut into his flesh.

Her hand tried to push him off but she couldn't budge. Her other hand reached for her clit, searching for release. Tig saw her desperation, his ex was frustrated. He slapped her hand away. "No." He grunted. He was in control here. This was for him, not for their relationship.

A few resounding thrusts, then Tig fucked into her, her cunt hungrily swallowed his whole length and pulsed around him. Tig came hard, howling as his knees began to buckle. He ripped his arms away so his hands could grip the edge of the counter as he recovered, his cock growing limp while still inside his panting brunette.

He chuckled to himself, slowly bringing his gaze up to his partners as he withdrew himself.

Colleen's eyes were ravenous, her face contorted in rage. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" He snorted. He backed up to tuck himself back into his jeans and fasten his belt, still amused.

"Something –" She growled. Colleen kicked at the hulking man in her kitchen before wiggling her ass off the counter and fastened her robe around her waist again, come running down her inner thighs. She was invading his personal space in a way that was still intimidating, despite her size and stature. "Get the fuck out!"

"Don't be so fucking –"

"GET THE FUCK OUT, ALEX!"

Tig made a motion to leave, but a tiny voice stopped him in his tracks. "Daddy!" A sleepy-eyed Dawn cried, her hair mussed from sleep and her night gown a wrinkled mess.

Tig knelt down, catching the small toddler as she ran into his arms. "Daddy's sorry he missed your party, Princess. He was off fighting bad guys."

"And now Daddy is leaving." Colleen piped in.

"No, Daddy! Don't go!" Dawn protested, pouting.

Tig knelt down, doing his best to release the little girls grasp on his kutte. "Your mom's right, baby. Daddy has to go."

"But –"

"I left you something by your bed, baby girl." He explained.

"Daddy, I –"

Colleen picked up her daughter, seeing Tig's hand reach for the screen door's handle. "You need to go back to bed."

"I'll see you soon, Dawny. Daddy loves you Princess." He leaned down to kiss his daughter's forehead before slipping out the kitchen door into the darkness of night.

The small child burst into tears, screaming loudly. "Daddy, wait! Don't leave me, Daddy!"

Tig heard his daughter cry as he walked back to his bike, head hung. He straddled the bike in one long stride and sighed. There was a reason that he wasn't on time. He hated that look of disappointment in his daughter's eyes. He hated hearing her scream for her father but in his mind he rationalized it. After all, she couldn't someone who was never there.


End file.
